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LONDON  ASSURANCE 


A  COMEDY  IN   FIVE  ACTS 


BY 


DION  L.   BOUCICAULT 

ACTING  VERSION   OF 

THE  YALE  UNIVERSITY 
DRAMATIC  ASSOCIATION 

(INCORPORATED) 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 
By  William  Lyon  Phelps,   Ph.D. 

Lafnpson  Professor  of  English  Literature  at  Yale  University 
Honorary  Member  of  the  Yale  University  Dramatic  Association 


# 


NEW  HAVEN,  CONN. 

Published  under  the  Supervision  of 
Philip  Roberts,  1910 


THE   TUTTLE,    MOREHOUSE   &   TAVLOK    COMPANY, 
NEW    HAVEN,    CONN. 


THIS   VOLUME    IS   RESPECTFULLY   DEDICATED   TO 

HENRY  ARTHUR  JONES,  ESQ., 

OF   LONDON, 

WITH   ADMIRATION   FOR  THE  DRAMATIST 

AND   AFFECTION    FOR   THE    MAN 


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(Autograph  letter  of  Dion  Boucicault's  in  possession  of  Prof.  William  Lyon  Phelps.) 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  Yale  University  Dramatic  Association. 

The  Association  was  founded  by  Henry  D.  Wescott,  Esq., 
of  the  class  of  1901,  and  its  initial  performance  was  given  at 
the  Hyperion  Theatre,  New  Haven,  on  the  twenty-third  of 
May,  in  the  last  year  of  the  last  century.  On  that  occasion, 
memorable  in  itself  and  in  its  subsequently  fulfilled  promise, 
the  Association  produced  a  dramatic  version  of  Chaucer's 
Pardoner's  Tale,  prepared  by  Mr.  Wescott,  and  a  Mediaeval 
Mystery,  Secunda  Pastorum.  The  object  of  this  student 
organization  was  both  dignified  and  scholarly ;  no  cheap  bur- 
lesques or  so-called  "musical  comedies,"  devoid  as  they 
usually  are,  even  on  the  professional  stage,  of  both  comedy 
and  music,  were  to  be  allowed.  This  good  policy  has  been 
generally  followed.  The  Association  has  given,  for  the 
first  time  in  English  anywhere  in  the  world,  representations 
of  Ibsen's  Pretenders  and  of  Gogol's  Revizor:  it  has  revived 
such  plays  as  Hey  wood's  The  Fair  Maid  of  the  West  (first 
performance  in  America),  Goldsmith's  The  Good-Natured 
Man,  and  Sheridan's  Critic.  Since  1905  the  Association 
has  given  annual  performances  outside  of  New  Haven; 
and  this  year,  for  the  first  time,  it  will  play  in  Washington, 
the  trip  being  made  during  the  Christmas  vacation,  to  avoid 
interference  with  regular  college  work. 

Nearly  every  year  in  the  past  decade  has  seen  something 
new  in  the  history  of  the  Association.     The  year  1909  will 


VI  INTRODUCTION. 

long  be  remembered  as  the  period  when  an  open  air  Com- 
mencement play  was  first  undertaken.  On  the  Saturday 
night  preceding  Commencement,  under  the  Campus  elms, 
was  produced  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  with  Mr.  Parry,  '09, 
as  Falstafif.  No  spectator  will  ever  forget  this  performance. 
It  was  one  of  the  most  entertaining  and  at  the  same  time 
one  of  the  most  impressive  dramatic  representations  ever 
witnessed  in  this  part  of  the  world.  Nor  should  we  forget 
another  great  event  in  the  year  1909,  when,  on  the  nineteenth 
of  April,  Miss  Maude  Adams  brought  her  entire  company 
from  New  York,  and  gave  a  splendid  performance  of  J.  M. 
Barrie's  new  play.  What  Every  Woman  Knozvs.  Every 
item  of  expense  connected  with  this  production  was  borne 
by  Miss  Adams,  and  the  large  receipts  were  given  by  her  to 
the  Yale  University  Dramatic  Association,  to  go  toward  the 
fund  being  raised  for  the  proposed  University  Theatre.  The 
writer  has  seldom  witnessed  a  dramatic  spectacle  where 
there  was  so  much  emotion  both  on  the  stage  and  in  the 
auditorium.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  performance,  Mr. 
Parry  presented  Miss  Adams  with  a  suitable  token,  announc- 
ing at  the  same  time  that  she  had  been  chosen  as  an 
Honorary  Member  of  the  Association. 

In  1907  the  Association  definitely  adopted  the  policy  of 
publishing  their  acting  version  of  the  play  selected,  a  custom 
which  has  been  followed  by  other  universities.  This  gives 
a  certain  permanence  to  the  work  of  the  students,  and  is  so 
well  managed  by  them  that  no  financial  loss  has  as  yet 
resulted.  This  year,  for  the  Christmas  trip  and  for  the 
Saturday  Promenade  performances,  the  Association  has 
decided  on  a  revival  of  Boucicault's  London  Assurance,  a 
comedy  that  no  undergraduate  has  ever  had  an  opportunity 
to  witness,  but  which  shines  bright  in  the  recollections  of 


INTRODUCTION.  Vll 

old  playgoers.  The  President  of  the  Association  for  the 
present  academic  year  is  Mr.  T.  Lawrason  Riggs,  who  has 
been  successful  throughout  his  college  course  in  the  inter- 
pretation of  feminine  roles,  and  who  at  the  same  time  has 
won  the  highest  honours  in  scholarship ;  the  Manager,  on 
whom  the  burden  of  the  practical  side  of  the  work  falls,  is 
Mr.  C.  P.  Franchot,  who,  despite  the  immense  labour 
involved  in  the  business  management,  has  consistently  main- 
tained a  high  standing  in  the  curriculum. 

Dion  Boucicault. 

Boucicault  died  at  New  York,  on  the  eighteenth  of  Sep- 
tember, 1890.  A  few  days  after  his  death,  Mr.  Stephen 
Fiske  remarked,  "One  of  the  arguments  employed  to  prove 
that  Bacon  wrote  Shakespeare's  works  is  that  nobody  knows 
anything  about  Shakespeare,  who  lived  three  hundred  years 
ago.  Yet  here  is  the  Shakespeare  of  Ireland,  who  has  been 
with  us  all  these  years  and  who  died  only  last  week,  and  yet 
nobody  knows  positively  how  old  he  was,  where  he  was  born, 
or  who  was  his  father.  Shakespeare's  name  is  spelled  dif- 
ferently in  various  documents — another  argument  in  favour 
of  Bacon.  But  Boucicault's  name  used  to  be  spelled 
Bourcicault ;  he  altered  it  only  a  few  years  ago,  and  it  was 
probably  neither  Bourcicault  or  Boucicault  when  he  left 
Dublin  for  London,  and  assumed  all  the  'London  assurance' 
after  which  he  named  his  best  comedy. 

"Another  Baconian  argument  is  that  nobody  knows  how 
Shakespeare  got  the  education  which  he  showed  in  his  plays. 
Where  did  Boucicault  get  his  education?  He  spoke  French 
as  fluently  as  English;  his  Latin  quotations  were  as  pat  as 
his  Irish  wit.  At  sixteen  years  of  age  he  had  astonished 
the  world  with  one  of  the  brightest  comedies  in  any  Ian- 


VUl  INTRODUCTION. 

guage.  [This  must  be  taken  with  a  pinch  of  salt,  as 
"nobody  knows  positively  how  old  he  was."]  When  and 
where  did  he  find  time  to  study  ?  After  three  hundred  years, 
commentators  are  puzzled  by  the  problem  how  Shakespeare, 
a  mere  lad,  just  from  Strat ford-on- Avon,  could  have  written 
'Hamlet.'  [Another  saline  solution  is  required  here.]  Yet 
no  commentator  can  explain  how  Boucicault,  a  mere  boy, 
fresh  from  Dublin,  could  write  'London  Assurance' — and 
Boucicault  has  not  been  dead  a  week. 

"But,  not  to  push  too  curiously  a  comparison  that  will 
suggest  itself  to  everybody,  let  us  add  that  in  personal 
appearance  Boucicault  was  not  unlike  the  pictures  of 
Shakespeare.  He  had  the  same  domed  head,  and  some  of 
the  qualities  inside  it.  The  one  great  dissimilarity  is  that 
Boucicault  was  not  a  poet  of  the  first  rank,  like  Shakespeare. 
But  he  had  the  poetry  as  well  as  the  humour  of  the  Irish. 
He  did  for  Ireland  by  his  splendid  trio  of  plays — 'The 
Colleen  Bawn,'  'Arrah-na-Pogue,'  and  'The  Shaughraun,' — 
what  Shakespeare  did  for  England  in  his  historical  plays." 

The  life  of  Boucicault  was  in  fact  as  romantic  as  any 
of  his  dramas.  No  one  knows  when  he  was  born,  but  like 
Oscar  Wilde,  Bernard  Shaw,  George  Moore  and  W.  B. 
Yeats,  he  was  an  Irishman  with  a  French  education.  Like 
these  other  compatriots,  he  added  to 'his  native  wit  and 
humour  the  technical  skill  that  is  so  often  supplied  by  a  good 
knowledge  of  French.  Where  he  obtained  the  necessary 
training  for  a  dramatic  career  is  absolutely  unknown ;  when 
he  was  very  young,  his  comedy  London  Assurance  was  pro- 
duced at  London,  and  a  few  months  later,  in  America,  and 
scored  a  tremendous  hit.  Then  followed  a  rapid  succession 
of  plays,  many  of  which  had  a  sensational  vogue.  Eleven 
years  after  the  appearance  of  his  first  play,  which  he  wrote 


INTRODUCTION.  IX 

and  produced  under  the  assumed  name  of  Lee  Morton, 
Boucicault  made  his  debut  as  an  actor.  This  was  on  the 
fourteenth  of  June,  1852.  From  this  time  on,  he  was  one  of 
the  most  famous  actors  on  the  English-speaking  stage, 
excelling  particularly  in  pathos.  In  1853  he  was  married  to 
Miss  Agnes  Robertson,  who  had  been  an  actress  since  she 
was  ten  years  old,  and  who  was  still  acting  in  1896.  Two 
sons  and  two  daughters  of  this  pair  also  went  on  the  stage. 
In  the  year  of  his  marriage,  1853,  he  went  with  his  wife  to 
the  United  States,  where  they  remained  until  i860.  In 
1861  was  produced  in  London  his  play  The  Octoroon,  which 
was  meant  to  illustrate  the  evils  of  slavery  in  the  Southern 
States,  and  which  had  a  prolonged  success.  Perhaps  his 
best  work  is  contained  in  the  three  plays  quoted  above  in 
the  extract  from  Fiske.  Mr.  William  Winter  said  of  him, 
"The  dramas  of  Boucicault  are  seldom,  if  ever,  original  in 
plot,  but  they  are  often  original  in  action,  treatment  of  inci- 
dents, and  are  bright  in  dialogue.  He  has  been  the  means 
of  great  improvement  and  elevation  to  the  Irish  drama, 
having  replaced  the  'ranting,  roaring  Irishman,'  with 
stuffed  stick  and  black  bottle,  by  genuine  men  of  the  Emer- 
ald Isle."  One  of  his  greatest  services  to  the  cause  of  the' 
drama,  and  for  which  his  memory  will  always  be  kept  green 
by  playwrights,  consisted  in  the  fact  that  it  was  he  who 
insisted  that  the  dramatist,  and  not  the  management,  nor  the 
actors,  was  the  Hauptsache  in  a  theatrical  production.  ■ 
He  found  that  it  was  customary  for  the  management  to  give 
the  dramatist  a  small  fee,  and  none  of  the  profits.  He 
insisted  that  the  playwright  should  receive  a  percentage  of 
the  receipts,  and  won  his  point,  winning  at  the  same  time 
immense  fortunes  for  his  successors  in  the  field  of  dramatic 
composition.     Mr.  Winter  has  pointed  out  one  illustration  of 


X  INTRODUCTION. 

the  difference  in  margin  caused  by  this  new  method.  For 
his  play  The  Corsican  Brothers,  Boucicault  received  three 
hundred  dollars ;  in  1866,  for  The  Flying  Scud,  he  received 
thirty-two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars !  In  every  way  he 
successfully  established  the  principle  that  "the  play's  the 
thin 


S- 


)> 


In  1876  he  took  up  his  permanent  residence  in  the  United 
States,  where,  in  the  language  of  the  Dictionary  of  National 
Biography,  he  repudiated  his  wife  and  made  "other 
so-called  nuptial  arrangements,  casting  on  his  children  an 
unmerited  stigma." 

He  was  an  extraordinary  person  and  suffered  from  a  well- 
defined  case  of  the  artistic  temperament.  He  made  and 
squandered  fortunes,  living  like  a  prince.  According  to 
Fiske,  "in  business,  he  never  knew  the  value  of  a  contract, 
and  prided  himself  upon  never  keeping  his  word  unless  he 
liked.  .  .  .  For  ten  years  he  ruled  the  theatrical  world  of 
London  and  New  York.  'I  am  an  emperor,'  he  said,  and 
take  what  I  think  best  for  Art,  whether  it  be  a  story  from  a 
book,  a  play  from  the  French,  an  actor  from  a  rival  com- 
pany.' "  M.  Filon,  the  distinguished  French  critic,  said, 
"He  was  plagiarism  incarnate." 

In  spite  of  his  prodigious  and  constant  successes,  he  lived 
to  see  his  dramas  called  "old-fashioned."  In  1882,  in  his 
book,  English  Dramatists  of  To-day,  Mr.  William  Archer 
refused  to  give  Boucicault  a  separate  chapter,  and  included 
him  in  a  prefatory  section,  called  Playwrights  of  Yesterday. 
"He  is  no  longer  a  living  and  effective  influence  in  the  dra- 
matic life  of  the  country.  He  is  one  of  the  giants  that 
were — yesterday." 


introduction.  xi 

"London  Assurance." 

The  play  was  first  produced  at  Covent  Garden,  London, 
on  the  fourth  of  March,  1841.  On  the  eleventh  of  October 
of  the  same  year  it  appeared  at  the  Park  Theatre,  New 
York.  M.  Filon  says,  "In  his  first  great  success,  London 
Assurance,  you  may  find  not  only  Goldsmith  and  Sheridan, 
but  Terence  and  Plautus,  who  had  reached  him  by  way  of 
Moliere  .  .  .  He  knew  no  other  world  than  that  of  the 
theatre — the  world  which  from  eight  o'clock  till  midnight 
laughs  and  cries,  curses  and  makes  love,  dies  and  murders, 
under  the  gaslight,  behind  three  sets  of  painted  canvas." 
There  are  many  old  bucks  of  sixty-odd  to-day  who  can 
recall  their  delight  at  historic  performances  of  London 
Assurance,  and  even  within  thirty  years  it  was  commonly 
seen  on  the  stage.  Many  Bostonians  will  remember  the 
excellent  presentation  of  their  old  favourite  by  the  admira- 
ble stock  company  at  the  Boston  Museum.  Mr.  Qement 
Scott  did  not  apparently  agree  with  Mr.  Archer  that  Bouci- 
cault  was  a  man  of  yesterday,  for  on  the  second  page  of  the 
first  volume  of  his  extended  reminiscences  of  the  drama,  he 
said,  "Was  it  that,  about  this  time,  were  produced  in  Lon- 
don, close  upon  sixty  years  ago,  two  plays  that  have,  in 
spite  of  the  buffets  of  time,  and  change,  and  circumstance, 
remained  stage  classics  to  this  hour  [1899]  ;  thereby  uphold- 
ing my  contention,  that  a  good  play  with  heart  and  life  and 
humour  in  it,  never  failed,  and  never  will  fail,  except 
through  the  fault  of  its  interpreters  ?  I  allude,  of  course,  to 
Bulwer  Lytton's  'Money,'  presented  at  the  Haymarket 
Theatre  on  the  8th  of  December,  1840,  and  to  Dion  Bouci- 
cault's  'London  Assurance,'  which  first  flashed  into  notice 
on  the  4th  of  March,  1841,  and  started  into  life  one  of  the 
brightest   and  most  workmanlike   dramatists  of   our  time. 


XU  INTRODUCTION. 

who,  in  addition  to  his  remarkable  technical  skill  as  a  play- 
wright, proved  himself  to  be  an  Irish  comedian  almost  with- 
out a  rival.  ...  I  have  heard  these  famous  plays,  born 
when  I  was  born,  stage  classics  to  this  hour,  called  old 
fashioned,  out  of  date,  and  sneered  at  as  the  kind  of  stage 
work  that  should  be  kindly  forgotten  and  forgiven.  .  .  . 
Do  you  think  that  'London  Assurance'  would  fail  with  a 
Farren  for  a  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly,  a  Charles  Mathews  for 
Dazzle,  and  a  Nisbet  for  Lady  Gay?    Perish  the  thought !" 

It  would  seem  then  that  if  the  play  is  intelligently  pre- 
sented, it  cannot  fail.  Those  who  have  seen  Yale  actors 
under  the  spell  of  Mr.  Short's  inspiring  teaching,  may  be 
reasonably  certain  that  London  Assurance  will  once  more 
awaken  that  spontaneous  and  inextinguishable  laughter 
that  made  London  town  resound  with  its  happy  echoes 
sixty-eight  years  ago. 

William  Lyon  Phelps. 
Yale  College,  Thanksgiving,  1909. 


THE  YALE  UNIVERSITY  DRAMATIC 
ASSOCIATION. 

(INCORPORATED) 

(Founded  February  28th,  1900,  by  Harry  D.  Wescott.) 


OFFICERS 

President, 
THOMAS  LAWRASON  RIGGS,  1910. 

Vice  President, 
HARVEY  TRACY  WARREN,  1910. 

Secretary, 
LOOMIS  HAVEMEYER,  1910S. 

Manager, 
CHARLES  PASCAL  FRANCHOT,  1910. 

Assistant  Manager, 
WILLIAM  ARCHIBALD  McAFEE,  191 1. 

Press  Manager, 
THOMAS  HEWES,  1910. 

Assistant  Press  Manager, 
ROBERT  COLEMAN  WALKER,   191 1. 


Honorary  Members, 

MISS    MAUDE   ADAMS. 

PROFESSOR  WILLIAM  LYON  PHELPS. 

PROFESSOR  EDWARD  BLISS  REED. 

MR.  FRANK  LEA  SHORT. 


Active  Members. 

1910. 

HOWARD  CLIFTON  BAKER. 

STEPHEN  MERRELL  CLEMENT,  JR. 

DAVID  JAY  ELY. 

ARTHUR  ROBERTSON  FERGUSSON. 

CHARLES  PASCAL  FRANCHOT. 

THOMAS  HEWES. 
JOHN   TRUMBULL   METCALF. 

HAROLD  OBERNAUER. 

THOMAS  LAWRASON  RIGGS. 

PHILIP  ROBERTS. 

HARVEY  TRACY  WARREN. 

1911. 

ARTHUR  AMORY  GAMMELL. 

ARTHUR  MOWRY  HARTWELL. 

CHARLES    VIRGIL   HICKOX,    JR. 

WILLIAM  ARCHIBALD  McAFEE. 

JOHN  VINCENT  McDONNELL. 

WILLIAM  Deforest  manice. 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON  NEWMAN 

FRANCIS  BAYARD  RIVES 

ROBERT  COLEMAN  WALKER. 

EDGAR  MONTILLION  WOOLLEY. 

1912. 

WILLIAM    CHRISTIAN    BULLITT,    JR. 

EDWARD  STEVENS. 

ALEXANDER  CAMPBELL  TENER. 

1910  S. 

LINDELL  THEODORE  BATES. 

MATTHEW  GRISWOLD  ELY. 

LOOMIS  HAVEMEYER. 

1912L. 
HENRY  DANIEL  GIBBONS. 


Fkank  Lea  Short, 
Stage  Director. 


THE  YALE  UNIVERSITY  DRAMATIC  ASSOCIATION 

(INCORPORATED) 

Presents  as  its 
ELEVENTH  ANNUAL  PRODUCTION 


U 


LONDON  ASSURANCE" 

BY  DION  L.  BOUCICAULT 

Under  the  stage  direction  of 
MR.  FRANK  LEA  SHORT 


MERIDEN-Polfs  Theatre,  December  23d,  1909. 
WASHINGTON,    D.   C.--New   National  Theatre,  afternoon  of 

December  27th,  1909. 
BALTIMORE,  MD,--Albaugh's  Theatre,  December  28th,  1909. 
ORANGE,  N.  J.-Bijou  Theatre,  December  29th,  1909. 
BRIDGEPORT-Jackson's  Theatre,  December  30th,  1909. 
WATERBURY-Poirs  Theatre,  December  31,  1909. 
HARTFORD-Hartford  Theatre,  January  1st,  19 10. 
NEW  YORK  CITY-Waldorf-Astoria  Hotel,  Monday,  January  4th, 

Tuesday  afternoon  and  evening,  January  5th,  J9I0. 

POUGHKEEPSIE-Collingwood    Theatre,    afternoon   of   January 
8th,  1 910. 

NEW   HAVEN- -Hyperion    Theatre,  afternoon  and   evening  of 
January  1 5th,  19 10. 


FORMER    PRODUCTIONS. 


May  23d,  1900. 

"The  Pardoner's  Tale"  of  Chaucer  and  "The  Second 
Shepherd's   Play." 

April  23d  and  24th,  1901. 
Thomas  Heywood's  "The  Fair  Maid  of  the  West." 

October  22d,  1901. 

Bicentennial   Campus   Celebration — Under  Auspices   of  the 
Yale  Dramatic  Association. 

April  23d  and  24th,  1902. 

Sheridan's  "The  Critic"  and  Townley's  "High  Life  Below 

Stairs." 

April  27th  and  28th,  1903. 
Oliver  Goldsmith's   "The  Good-Natured  Man." 

April  19th  and  20th,  1904. 
Tom  Taylor's   "New  Men  and  Old  Acres." 

April  4th  and  5th,  and  Carnegie  Lyceum,  New  York,  April  7th,  1905. 
A.   W.   Pinero's    "The   Magistrate." 

April  3d  and  4th,  1906. 
Shakespeare's  "Henry  IV,  Part  I." 

First  Promenade  Performanoe,  January  19th,  1907. 
A.  W.  Pinero's   "The  Amazons." 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  XVll 

April  ist,  Parsons'  Theatre,  Hartford,  Conn.;   April  2d  and 

2d,  Waldorf-Astoria  Hotel,  New  York,  and  April  5th 

and  6th,  1907,  Hyperion  Theatre,  New  Haven. 

Henrik  Ibsen's   "The  Pretenders." 

Noviember  i8th,  1907,  College  Street  Hall. 

"El  Doctor  y  El  Enfermo,"    "Einer  Muss  Heiraten,"    and 

"Le  Pretexte." 

Second  Promenade  Performance,  January  i8th,  1908. 
Oscar  Wilde's   "The  Importance  of  Being  Earnest." 

April  20th,  1908,  Waldorf-Astoria  Hotel;   April  21st,  Parsons' 

Theatre,  Hartford,  Conn.;   April  22d,  Poll's  Theatre, 

Waterbury,  Conn.;    April  24th  and  25th, 

Hyperion  Theatre,  New  Haven. 

Nikolas  V.  Gogol's    "Revizor." 

First  Christmas  Vacation  Trip. 

Charles  Selby's    "The  Fire-Eater"   and  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan's 

"The  Critic." 

December  30th,  1908,  Parsons'  Theatre,  Hartford;    December  31st, 
Smith's  Theatre,  Bridgeport;   January  ist,  1909,  Pali's  Theatre, 
Meriden;    January   2d,   Poli's    Theatre,    Waterbury;     Jan- 
uary 4th  and  5th,  Waldorf-Astoria  Hotel,  New  York; 
January  i6th,  Hyperion  Theatre,  Nezv  Haven. 

First  Commencement  Performance. 

Shakespeare's   "The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor." 
June  26,  1909,  The  Yale  Campus,  New  Haven. 


LOCAL  MANAGERS. 


Meriden — Willard  C.  Hyatt,  1905. 
Washington — G.  Gould  Lincoln,  1902. 
Baltimore — Frederick  C.  Colston,  1904. 
Orange — Committee  of  Essex  County  Alumni  Associa- 
tion. 
Bridgeport — Bronson  M.  Warren,  1904. 
Waterbury — Edwin  C.  Northrop,  1904. 

Howard  S.  White,  1903. 
Hartford — Ralph  D.  Cutler,  1907. 
New  York — George  S.  Chappell,  1899. 

Franklin  A.  Johnston,  1903. 
Poughkeepsie — Denman  F.  Fox,  1904. 


COMMITTEES. 


Stage  Manager. 
Francis  Bayard  Rives,  1911. 

Property  Men. 

Philip  Moen  Stimson,  1910. 

Joseph  Epes  Brown,  Jr.,  1913. 

Costume  Committee. 
David  Everett  Chantler,  1910.     Havens  Grant,  1911. 

Press  Committee. 
T.  Hewes,  1910,  Chairman. 
R.  C.  Walker,  191  i.       E.  Stevens,  1912. 
J.  Alden,  1911.  J.  R.  Winterbotham,  Jr.,  1912. 

J.  C.  Biddle,  1912.  P.  M.  Whelan,  1912. 

Book  Editors. 
Philip  Roberts,  1910.       Allen  Skinner  Hubbard,  1911. 


The  music  is  by  the  Yale  Orchestra,  under  the  direction  of 
Richardson  Phelps,  1910. 


2  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Cool.  So  they  all  say.  Why  he  has  arrests  out  against 
him  already.  I've  seen  the  fellows  watching  the  door. 
{Loud  knock  and  ring  heard,  left.)  There  he  is,  just  in 
time — quick,  Martin,  for  I  expect  Sir  Harcourt's  bell  every 
moment  {bell  rings,  right),  and  there  it  is.  {Exit  Martin, 
slowly,  right.)  Thank  Heaven!  he  will  return  to  college 
to-morrow,  and  this  heavy  responsibility  will  be  taken  off  my 
shoulders.  A  valet  is  as  difficult  a  post  to  fill  properly  as 
that  of  prime  minister.  {Exit,  left.) 

Young  C.     {Without.)     Hollo! 

Dazzle.     {Without.)     Steady. 

Enter  Young  Courtly  and  Dazzle,  left. 

Young  C.     Hollo-o-o! 

Daz.  Hush  I  what  are  you  about,  howling  like  a  Hotten- 
tot. Sit  down  there,  and  thank  Heaven  you  are  in  Belgrave 
square  instead  of  Bow  street. 

Young  C.     D — d — damn  Bow  street. 

Daz.  Oh,  with  all  my  heart ! — you  have  not  seen  as  much 
of  it  as  I  have. 

Young  C.  I  say — let  me  see — what  was  I  going  to 
say? — oh,  look  here — {pulls  out  a  large  assortment  of  bell- 
pulls,  knockers,  etc.,  from  his  pocket).  There!  dam'me! 
I'll  puzzle  the  postmen — I'll  deprive  them  of  their  right  of 
disturbing  the  neighborhood.  That  black  lion's  head  did 
belong  to  old  Vampire,  the  money-lender ;  this  bell-pull  to 
Miss  Stitch,  the  milliner.  . 

Daz.     And  this  brass  griffin — 

Young  C.  That !  oh,  let  me  see — I  think  I  twisted  that 
off  our  own  hall-door  as  I  came  in,  while  you  were  paying 
the  cab. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  3 

Daz.     What  shall  I  do  with  them? 

Young  C.  Pack  'em  in  a  small  hamper,  and  send  'em 
to  the  sitting  magistrate  with  my  father's  compliments ;  in 
the  meantime  come  into  my  room,  and  I'll  astonish  you 
with  some  Burgundy. 

Reenter  Cool,  center,  door. 

Cool.     (Right.)     Mr.  Charles— 

Young  C.  (Center.)  Out!  out!  not  at  home  to  any 
one. 

Cool.     And  drunk — 

Young  C.     As  a  lord. 

Cool.  If  Sir  Harcourt  knew  this  he  would  go  mad,  he 
would  discharge  me. 

Young  C.  You  flatter  yourself ;  that  would  be  no  proof 
of  his  insanity.  (To  Dazzle,  left.)  This  is  Cool,  sir,  Mr. 
Cool;  he  is  the  best  liar  in  London — there  is  a  pungency 
about  his  invention,  and  an  originality  in  his  equivocation, 
that  is  perfectly  refreshing. 

Cool.  (Aside.)  Why,  Mr.  Charles,  where  did  you  pick 
him  up? 

Young  C.  You  mistake,  he  picked  me  up.  (Bell  rings, 
right.) 

Cool.  Here  comes  Sir  Harcourt — pray  do  not  let  him 
see  you  in  this  state. 

Young  C.  State !  what  do  you  mean  ?  I  am  in  a  beau- 
tiful state. 

Cool.     I  should  lose  my  character. 

Young  C.  That  would  be  a  fortunate  epoch  in  your  life, 
Cool. 

Cool.     Your  father  would  discharge  me. 


4  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Young  C.     Cool,  my  dad  is  an  old  ass. 

Cool.  Retire  to  your  room,  for  Heaven's  sake,  Mr. 
Charles. 

Young  C.  I'll  do  so  for  my  own  sake.  (To  Dazzle)  I 
say,  old  fellow  (staggering),  just  hold  the  door  steady  while 
I  go  in. 

Daz.  This  way.  Now,  then! — take  care!  (Helps  him 
into  the  room,  right.) 

Enter  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly,  left,  in  an  elegant  dressing- 
gown,  and  Greek  skull-cap  and  tassels,  etc. 

Sir  Harcourt.     (Center.)     Cool,  is  breakfast  ready? 

Cool.     (Right.)     Quite  ready,   Sir  Harcourt. 

Sir  H.  Apropos.  I  omitted  to  mention  that  I  expect 
Squire  Harkaway  to  join  us  this  morning,  and  you  must 
prepare  for  my  departure  to  Oak  Hall  immediately. 

Cool.  Leave  town  in  the  middle  of  the  season,  Sir 
Harcourt?     So  unprecedented  a  proceeding! 

Sir  H.  It  is  !  I  confess  it;  there  is  but  one  power  could 
effect  such  a  miracle — that  is  divinity. 

Cool.     How  ? 

Sir  H.  In  female  form,  of  course.  Cool,  I  am  about 
to  present  society  with  a  second  Lady  Courtly ;  young — 
blushing  eighteen  ;  lovely !  I  have  her  portrait ;  rich !  I 
have  her  banker's  account ; — an  heiress,  and  a  Venus ! 

Cool.     Lady  Courtly  could  be  none  other. 

Sir  H.  Ha!  ha!  Cool,  your  manners  are- above  your 
station.  Apropos,  I  shall  find  no  further  use  for  my  brocade 
dressing-gown. 

Cool.  I  thank  you.  Sir  Harcourt ;  might  I  ask  who  the 
fortunate  lady  is  ? 

Sir  H.  Certainly;  Miss  Grace  Harkaway,  the  niece  of 
my  old  friend,  Max. 


H.  T.  Warren, 
as  Dazzle. 


1910, 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  5 

Cool.     Have  you  never  seen  the  lady,  sir? 

Sir  H.  Never — that  is,  yes — eight  years  ago.  Her 
father,  who  had  made  a  market  of  my  indiscretion,  and 
supphed  my  extravagance  with  large  sums  of  money  on 
mortgages,  desired  to  unite  the  two  properties.  About  seven 
years  ago  he  died — leaving  Grace,  to  the  guardianship  of 
her  uncle,  with  this  will: — if,  on  attaining  the  age  of  nine- 
teen, she  would  consent  to  marry  me,  I  should  receive  those 
deeds,  and  all  his  property,  as  her  dowry.  If  she  refused 
to  comply  with  this  condition,  they  should  revert  to  my  heir, 
presumptive  or  apparent.     She  consents. 

Cool.     (Aside.)     Who  would  not? 

Sir  H.     I  consent  to  receive  her  £15,000  a  year. 

(Crosses  to  left.) 
Cool.     Who  would  not? 

Sir  H.  So  prepare.  Cool,  prepare  (crosses  to  right)  . 
but  where  is  my  boy,  where  is  Charles  ? 

.  Cool.     Why — oh,   he  is  gone  out.   Sir   Harcourt ;    yes, 
gone  out  to  take  a  walk. 

Sir  H.  a  perfect  child  in  heart — a  sober,  placid  mind — 
fresh  and  unsullied  by  any  contact  with  society.  Tell  me, 
Cool,  at  what  time  was  he  in  bed  last  night? 

Cool.     Half-past  nine.    Sir   Harcourt. 

Sir  H.  Half -past  nine!  Reposing  in  cherub  slumbers, 
while  all  around  him  teems  with  drinking  and  debauchery! 
No  pilot-coated,  bear-skinned  brawling! 

Cool.     Oh,  Sir  Harcourt! 

Sir  H.     No  cigar-smoking — 

Cool.     Faints  at  the  smell  of  one. 

Sir  H.     No  brandy  and  water  bibbing — 

Cool.  Doesn't  know  the  taste  of  anything  stronger  than 
barley-water. 


6  LONDON   ASSURANCE. 

Sir  H.     No  night  parading — 

Cool.  Never  heard  the  clock  strike  twelve,  except  at 
noon. 

Sir  H.  In  fact,  he  is  my  son,  and  became  a  gentleman 
by  right  of  paternity — he  inherited  my  manners. 

Enter  Martin,  left. 

Mar.     Mr.  Harkaway. 

Enter  Max  Harkaway,  left. 

Max.  Squire  Harkaway,  fellow,  or  Max  Harkaway, 
another  time.  Ah  !  ha !  Sir  Harcourt,  I'm  devilish  glad  to 
see  you !  Gi'me  your  fist — dang  it  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you ! 
Let  me  see :  six — seven  years  or  more,  since  we  have  met. 
How  quickly  they  have  flown ! 

Sir  H.  {Throwing  off  his  studied  manner.^  Max, 
Alax !  give  me  your  hand,  old  boy.  {Aside.)  Ah!  he  is 
glad  to  see  me;  there  is  no  fawning  pretence  about  that 
squeeze.    Cool,  you  may  retire.  {Exit  Cool,  right.) 

Max.     Why,  you  are  looking  quite  rosy. 

Sir  H.     Ah,  ha!    rosy!    Am  I  too  florid? 

Max.     Not  a  bit;    not  a  bit. 

Sir  H.  I  thought  so.  {Aside.)  Cool  said  I  had  put 
too  much  on. 

Max.  {Left.)  How  comes  it,  Courtly,  you  manage  to 
retain  your  youth?  See,  I'm  as  gray  as  an  old  badger, 
while  you  are — are  as  black  as  a  young  rook.  I  say,  whose 
head  grew  your  hair,  eh? 

Sir  H.  Permit  me  to  remark,  that  all  the  beauties  of 
my  person  are  of  home  manufacture.  Why  should  you  be 
surprised  at  my  youth?  I  have  scarcely  thrown  off  the 
giddiness  of  a  very  boy — elasticity  of  limb — buoyancy  of 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  7 

soul!  Remark  this  position.  {Throws  himself  into  an  atti- 
tude.) I  held  that  attitude  for  ten  minutes  at  Lady  Acid's 
last  reunion,  at  the  express  desire  of  one  of  our  first 
sculptors,  while  he  was  making  a  sketch  of  me  for  the 
Apollo. 

Max.     {Aside.)     Making  a  butt  of  thee  for  their  gibes. 

Sir  H.  Lady  Sarah  Sarcasm  started  up,  and  pointing 
to  my  face,  ejaculated,  "Good  gracious!  does  not  Sir 
Harcourt  remind  you  of  the  countenance  of  Ajax,  in  the 
Pompeian  portrait?" 

Max,     Ajax ! — humbug ! 

Sir  H.     You  are  complimentary. 

Max.  I'm  a  plain  man,  and  always  speak  my  mind. 
What's  in  a  face  or  figure?  Does  a  Grecian  nose  entail 
a  good  temper?  Does  a  waspish  waist  indicate  a  good 
heart?  Or,  do  oily  perfumed  locks  necessarily  thatch  a  well- 
furnished  brain? 

Sir  H.  It's  an  undeniable  fact,  plain  people  always 
praise  the  beauties  of  the  mind. 

Max.  Excuse  the  insinuation ;  I  thought  the  first  Lady 
Courtly  had  surfeited  you  with  beauty. 

Sir  H.  No  ;  she  lived  fourteen  months  with  me,  and 
then  eloped  with  an  intimate  friend.  Etiquette  compelled 
me  to  challenge  the  seducer;  so  I  received  satisfaction — 
and  a  bullet  in  my  shoulder  at  the  same  time.  However,  I 
had  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  he  was  the  handsomest 
man  of  the  age.  She  did  not  insult  me  by  running  away 
with  a  damned  ill-looking  scoundrel. 

Max.     That,  certainly,  was  flattering. 

Sir  H.  I  felt  so,  as  I  pocketed  the  ten  thousand  pounds 
damages. 


8  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Max.  That  must  liave  been  a  great  balm  to  your  sore 
honor. 

Sir  H.  It  was — Max.  my  honor  would  have  died  with- 
out it ;  for  on  that  year  the  wrong  horse  won  the  Derby — by 
some  mistake.  It  was  one  of  the  luckiest  chances — a  thing 
that  docs  not  happen  twice  in  a  man's  life — the  opportunity 
of  getting  rid  of  his  wife  and  his  debts  at  the  same  time. 

Max.  Tell  the  truth,  Courtly — Did  you  not  feel  a  little 
frayed  in  your  delicacy — your  honor,  now?    Eh? 

Sir  H.  Not  a  whit.  Why  should  I?  I  married  money, 
and  I  received  it — virgin  gold !  The  world  pities  the 
bereaved  husband,  when  it  should  congratulate.  No;  the 
affair  made  a  sensation,  and  I  was  the  object.  Besides,  it  is 
vulgar  to  parade  one's  feelings,  however  acute  they  may  be ; 
impenetrability  of  countenance  is  the  sure  sign  of  your 
highly-bred  man  of  fashion. 

Max.  So  a  man  must,  therefore,  lose  his  wife  and  his 
money  with  a  smile — in  fact,  everything  he  possesses  but  his 
temper. 

Sir  H.  Exactly;  and  great  ruin  with  vive  la  bagatelle! 
Your  modish  beauty  never  discomposes  the  shape  of  her 
features  with  convulsive  laughter.  Scenes  are  vulgar,  hys- 
terics obsolete.     (Crosses  to  left.) 

Max.  Well,  give  me  the  girl  that  will  fly  at  your  eyes 
in  an  argument,  and  stick  to  her  point  like  a  fox  to  his 
own  tail. 

Sir  H.     But  etiquette.  Max  !   remember  etiquette  ! 

Max.  Damn  etiquette !  I  have  seen  a  man  who  thought 
it  sacrilege  to  eat  fish  with  a  knife,  that  would  not  scruple 
to  rob  his  brother  of  his  birthright.  Your  thoroughbred 
will  seldom  kick  over  the  traces  of  good  feeling.  That's 
my  opinion,  and  I  don't  care  who  knows  it. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  9 

Sir  H.  Pardon  me — etiquette  is  the  pulse  of  society, 
by  regulating  which  the  body  politic  is  retained  in  health. 
I  consider  myself  one  of  the  faculty  in  the  art. 

Max.  Well,  well ;  you  are  a  living  libel  upon  common 
sense,  for  you  are  old  enough  to  know  better. 

Sir  H.  Old  enough !  What  do  you  mean  ?  Old  !  I  still 
retain  all  my  little  juvenile  indiscretions,  which  your  niece's 
beauties  must  teach  me  to  discard.  I  have  not  sown  my 
wild  oats  yet. 

Max.     Time  you  did,  at  sixty-three. 

Sir  H.  Sixty-three!  Good  Heavens! — forty,  'pon  my 
life  forty,  next  March. 

Max.     Why,  you  are  older  than  I  am. 

Sir  H.     Oh!    you  are  old  enough  to  be  my  father. 

Max.  Well,  if  I  am,  I  am;  that's  etiquette,  I  suppose. 
Poor  Grace !  how  often  have  I  pitied  her  fate !  That  a 
young  and  beautiful  creature  should  be  driven  into  wretched 
splendor,  or  miserable  poverty ! 

Sir  H.  Wretched!  Lady  Courtly  wretched!  Impos- 
sible ! 

Max.  Will  she  not  be  compelled  to  marry  you,  whether 
she  likes  you  or  not? — a  choice  between  you  and  poverty. 
And  hang  me  if  it  isn't  a  tie !  But  why  do  you  not  introduce 
your  son  Charles  to  me  ?  I  have  not  seen  him  since  he  was 
a  child.  You  would  never  permit  him  to  accept  any  of  my 
invitations  to  spend  his  vacation  at  Oak  Hall — of  course, 
we  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  his  company  now. 

Sir  H.  He  is  not  fit  to  enter  into  society  yet.  He  is 
a  studious,  sober  boy. 

Max.     Boy!     Why,  he's  five  and  twenty. 

Sir  H.  Good  gracious!  Max — you  will  permit  me  to 
know  my  own  son's  age — he  is  not  twenty. 


lO  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Max.     I'm  dumb. 

Sir  H.  You  will  excuse  me  while  I  indulge  in  the 
process  of  dressing.     Cool! 

Enter  Cool,  right. 

Prepare  my  toilet.  (Exit  Cool,  center.)  That  is  a  cere- 
mony which,  with  me,  supersedes  all  others.  I  consider 
it  a  duty  which  every  gentleman  owes  to  society,  to  render 
himself  as  agreeable  an  object  as  possible ;  and  the  least 
compliment  a  mortal  can  pay  to  nature,  when  she  honors 
him  by  bestowing  extra  care  in  the  manufacture  of  his  per- 
son, is  to  display  her  taste  to  the  best  possible  advantage ; 
and  so,  an  revoir.  {Exit,  left.) 

Max.  {Sits  right  of  table .)  That's  a  good  soul — he  has 
his  faults,  and  who  has  not?  Forty  years  of  age!  Oh, 
monstrous ! — but  he  does  look  uncommonly  young  for  sixty, 
spite  of  his  foreign  locks  and  complexion. 

Enter  Dazzle,  right. 

Daz.  Who's  my  friend  with  the  stick  and  gaiters,  I 
wonder — one  of  the  family — the  governor,  may  be? 

Max.  {Right  center.)  Who's  this?  Oh,  Charles — is 
that  you,  my  boy  ?     How  are  you  ? 

Daz.     How  are  you? 

Max.     Your  father  has  just  left  me. 

Daz.  The  devil  he  has.  The  honor  you  would  confer 
upon  me,  I  must  unwillingly  disclaim — I  am  not  Mr. 
Courtly. 

Max.     I  beg  pardon — a  friend,  I  suppose  ? 

Daz.  Oh,  a  most  intimate  friend — a  friend  of  years — 
distantly  related  to  the  family — one  of  my  ancestors  married 
one  of  his.     {Aside.)     Adam  and  Eve. 

Max.     Are  you  on  a  visit  here? 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  II 

Daz.     Yes ;   oh  !    yes. 

Max.  (Aside.)  As  a  friend  of  Sir  Harcourt's,  I  shall 
feel  honored  by  your  company  at  my  house,  Oak  Hall, 
Gloucestershire. 

Daz.     Your  name  is — 

Max.     Harkaway — Max  Harkaway. 

Daz.  Harkaway — let  me  see — I  ought  to  be  related  to 
the  Harkaways,  somehow. 

Max.  a  wedding  is  about  to  come  off — will  you  take  a 
part  on  the  occasion? 

Daz.     With  pleasure  !  any  part  but  that  of  the  husband. 

Max.     Have  you  any  previous  engagement? 

Daz.  I  was  thinking — eh?  why,  let  me  see.  Promised 
to  meet  my  tailor  to-morrow;  however,  I'll  postpone  that. 
Have  you  good  shooting? 

Max.  Shooting !  Why,  there's  no  shooting  at  this  time 
of  the  year. 

Daz.  Oh !  I'm  in  no  hurry — I  can  wait  till  the  season, 
of  course.  I  was  only  speaking  precautionally — you  have 
good  shooting? 

Max.     The  best  in  the  country. 

Daz.  Make  yourself  comfortable  ! — Say  no  more — I'm 
your  man — wait  till  you  see  how  I'll  murder  your  preserves. 

Max.     Do  you  hunt? 

Daz.  Pardon  me — but  will  you  repeat  that?  (Aside.) 
Delicious  and  expensive  idea! 

Max.     You  ride? 

Daz.  Anything!  Everything!  From  a  blood  to  a 
broomstick.  Only  catch  me  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  let  me 
get  on  the  back  of  it,  and  dam'me  if  I  wouldn't  astonish 
the  elements. 

Max.     Ha!    ha! 


12  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Daz.  I'd  put  a  girdle  round  about  tlic  earth  in  very  con- 
siderably less  than  forty  minutes. 

Max.     Ah!   ha! 

Daz.  No,  for  then  rises  u])  the  idol  of  my  great 
adoration. 

Max.     Who's  that? 

Daz.  The  bottle — that  lends  a  lustre  to  the  soul ! — When 
the  world  puts  on  its  night-cap,  and  extinguishes  the  sun — 
then  comes  the  bottle !  Oh,  mighty  wine !  don't  ask  me  to 
apostrophize.  Wine  and  love  are  the  only  two  indescribable 
things  in  nature ;  but  I  prefer  the  wine,  because  its  con- 
sequences are  not  entailed,  and  are  more  easily  got  rid  of. 

Max.     How  so? 

Daz.     Love  ends  in  matrimony,  wine  in  soda  water. 

Max.  Well,  I  can  promise  you  as  fine  a  bottle  as  ever 
was  cracked. 

Daz.  Never  mind  the  bottle,  give  me  the  wine.  Say 
no  more;  but,  when  I  arrive,  just  shake  one  of  my  hands, 
and  put  the  key  of  the  cellar  into  the  other,  and  if  I  don't 
make  myself  intimately  acquainted  with  its  internal  organi- 
zation— well,  I  say  nothing — time  will  show. 

Max.     I  foresee  some  happy  days. 

Daz.     And  I  some  glorious  nights. 

Max.     It  mustn't  be  a  flying  visit. 

Daz.     I  despise  the  word — I'll  stop  a  month  with  you. 

Max.     Or  a  year  or  two. 

Daz.     I'll  live  and  die  with  you. 

Max.  Ha!  ha!  Remember  Max  Harkaway,  Oak  Hall, 
Gloucestershire. 

Daz.     (Max  is  going.)     Say,  holloa! — Tallyho-o-o-o ! 

Max.     Yoicks! — Tallyhoa-o-o-o  ! —  (Exit,  left.) 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  1 3 

Daz.  There  I  am — quartered  for  a  couple  of  years,  at 
the  least.  The  old  boy  wants  somebody  to  ride  his  horses, 
shoot  his  game,  and  keep  a  restraint  on  the  morals  of  the 
parish :  I'm  eligible.  What  a  lucky  accident  to  meet  Young 
Courtly  last  night!  Who  could  have  thought  it?  Yester- 
day, I  could  not  make  certain  of  a  dinner;  to-day  I  would 
flirt  with  a  banquet. 

Enter  Young  Courtly^  right. 

Young  C.  What  infernal  row  was  that?  Why  {seeing 
Dazzle),  are  you  here  still? 

Daz.  Yes.  Ain't  you  delighted  ?  I'll  ring,  and  send  the 
servant  for  my  luggage. 

Young  C.  The  devil  you  will !  Why,  you  don't  mean 
to  say  you  seriously  intend  to  take  up  a  permanent  residence 
here?     {Rings  the  hell.) 

Daz.     Now,  that's  a  most  inhospitable  insinuation. 

Young  C.     Might  I  ask  your  name? 

Daz.  With  a  great  deal  of  pleasure — Richard  Dazzle, 
late  of  the  Unattached  Volunteers,  vulgarly  entitled  the 
Dirty  Buffs. 

Enter  Martin,  left. 

Young  C.  Then,  I  have  the  honor  of  wishing  you  a  very 
good  morning.     Martin,  show  this  gentleman  the  door. 

Daz.  If  he  does,  I'll  kick  Martin  out  of  it.  No  offense. 
{Exit  Martin,  left.)  Now,  sir,  permit  me  to  place  a 
dioramic  view  of  your  conduct  before  you.  After  bringing 
you  safely  home  this  morning — after  indulgently  waiting, 
whenever  you  took  a  passing  fancy  to  a  knocker  or  bell- 
pull — after  conducting  a  retreat  that  would  have  reflected 
honor  on  Napoleon — you  would  kick  me  into  the  street,  like 
3 


14  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

a  mang}^  cur ;  and  that's  what  you  call  gratitude.  Now,  to 
show  you  how  superior  I  am  to  petty  malice,  I  give  you 
an  unlimited  invitation  to  my  house — my  country  house — 
to  remain  as  long  as  you  please. 

Young  C.     Your  house ! 

Daz.  Oak  Hall,  Gloucestershire — fine  old  place  ! — for 
further  particulars  see  road  book — that  is,  it  nominally 
belongs  to  my  old  friend  and  relation,  Max  Harkaway; 
but  I'm  privileged.  Capital  old  fellow — say,  shall  we  be 
honored? 

Young  C.  Sir,  permit  me  to  hesitate  a  moment. 
(Aside.)  Let  me  see;  I  go  back  to  college  to-morrow,  so 
I  shall  not  be  missing;  tradesmen  begin  to  dun — (a  noise 
off  left,  between  Martin  a7td  Isaacs;  Cool  has  entered 
center,  crosses  and  goes  off  left.)  I  hear  thunder;  here 
is  shelter  ready  for  me. 

Reenter  Cool,  left. 

Cool.  Oh,  Mr.  Charles,  Mr.  Solomon  Isaacs  is  in  the 
hall,  and  swears  he  will  remain  till  he  has  arrested  you ! 

Young  C.  Does  he ! — sorry  he  is  so  obstinate — take  him 
my  compliments,  and  I  will  bet  him  five  to  one  he  will  not. 

Daz.     Double  or  quits,  with  my  kind  regards. 

Cool.  But,  sir,  he  has  discovered  the  house  in  Curzon 
street;  he  says  he  is  aware  the  furniture  at  least  belongs 
to  you,  and  he  will  put  a  man  in  immediately. 

Young  C.     That's  awkward — what's  to  be  done? 

Daz.  I  will  give  you  my  acceptance,  if  it  will  be  of  any 
use  to  you — it  is  of  none  to  me. 

Young  C.  No,  sir ;  but  in  reply  to  your  most  generous 
and  kind  invitation,  if  you  be  in  earnest,  I  shall  feel 
delighted  to  accept  it. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  15 

Daz.     Certainly. 

Young  C.  Then  off  we  g"o — through  the  stables — down 
the  Mews,  and  so  slip  through  my  friend's  fingers. 

Daz.  But,  stay,  you  must  do  the  polite ;  say  farewell 
to  him  before  you  part.    Damn  it,  don't  cut  him ! 

Young  C.    You  jest. 

Daz.  Here,  lend  me  a  card.  (Courtly  gives  him  one.) 
Now,  then.  (JVrites.)  "Our  respects  to  Mr.  Isaacs — sorry 
to  have  been  prevented  from  seeing  him."     Ha !    ha ! 

Young  C.     Ha!   ha! 

Daz.     We'll  send  him  up  some  game. 

Young  C.     (To  Cool.)     Don't  let  my  father  see  him. 

(Exeunt  Young  Courtly  and  Dazzle,  right.) 

Cool.  What's  this?  "Mr.  Charles  Courtly,  P.  P.  C, 
returns  thanks  for  obliging  inquiries."  (Exit,  left.) 

End  of  First  Act. 


ACT    SECOND 

Scene — TJic  laicn  before  Oak  Hall,  a  fine  Elizabethan 
viansion;  a  drawing-room  is  seen  through  large  French 
zvindozi's  at  the  back.  Statues,  urns  and  garden  chairs  about 
the  stage. 

Enter  Pert,  through  windozv,  left,  to  James,  who  is 
discovered. 

Pert.  James,  Miss  Grace  requests  that  you  will  watch 
at  the  avenue  and  let  her  know  when  the  squire's  carriage 
is  seen  on  the  London  road. 

James.     I  will  go  to  the  lodge. 

Pert.  How  I  long  to  see  what  kind  of  a  man  Sir  Har- 
court  Courtly  is !  They  say  he  is  sixty ;  so  he  must  be 
old,  and  consequently  ugly.  If  I  were  Miss  Grace,  I  would 
rather  give  up  all  my  fortune  and  marry  the  man  I  liked, 
than  go  to  church  with  a  stuffed  eel-skin.  But  taste  is 
everything — she  doesn't  seem  to  care  whether  he  is  sixty 
or  sixteen;  jokes  at  love;  prepares  for  matrimony  as  she 
would  for  dinner ;  says  it  is  a  necessary  evil,  and  what 
can't  be  cured  must  be  endured.  Now,  I  say  this  is  against 
all  nature;  and  she  is  either  no  woman,  or  a  deeper  one 
than  I  am,  if  she  prefers  an  old  man  to  a  young  one.  Here 
she  comes !  looking  as  cheerfully  as  if  she  was  going  to 
marry  Mr.  Jcnks !  My  Mr.  Jenks !  whom  nobody  won't 
lead  to  the  halter  till  I  have  that  honor. 

Enter  Grace,  from  the  drawing-room,  left. 
Grace.     Well,  Pert!   any  signs  of  my  uncle  yet? 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  1 7 

Pert.  {Left.)  No,  Miss  Grace;  but  James  has  gone 
to  watch  the  road. 

Grace.  In  my  uncle's  letter  he  mentions  a  Mr.  Dazzle, 
whom  he  has  invited ;  so  you  must  prepare  a  room  for 
him.  He  is  some  friend  of  my  husband  that  is  to  be,  and 
my  uncle  seems  to  have  taken  an  extraordinary  predilection 
for  him.  Apropos  !  I  must  not  forget  to  have  a  bouquet  for 
the  dear  old  man  when  he  arrives. 

Pert.     The  dear  old  man  !    Do  you  mean  Sir  Harcourt  ? 

Grace.  La,  no!  my  uncle  of  course.  {Plucking 
flowers.)     What  do  I  care  for  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly? 

{Crosses  right.) 

Pert.  Isn't  it  odd.  Miss,  you  have  never  seen  your 
intended,  though  it  has  been  so  long  since  you  were 
betrothed  ? 

Grace.  Not  at  all ;  marriage  matters  are  conducted 
now-a-days  in  a  most  mercantile  manner ;  consequently, 
a  previous  acquaintance  is  by  no  means  indispensable. 
Besides,  my  prescribed  husband  has  been  upon  the  conti- 
nent for  the  benefit  of  his — property.  They  say  a  southern 
climate  is  a  great  restorer  of  consumptive  estates. 

Pert.  Well,  Miss,  for  my  own  part,  I  should  like  to  have 
a  good  look  at  my  bargain  before  I  paid  for  it;  'specially 
when  one's  life  is  the  price  of  the  article.  But  why,  ma'm, 
do  you  consent  to  marry  in  this  blindman's  buff  sort  of 
manner?  What  would  you  think  if  he  were  not  quite  so 
old? 

Grace.     I  should  think  he  was  a  little  younger. 

Pert.     I  should  like  him  all  the  better. 

Grace.  That  wouldn't  I.  A  young  husband  might 
expect  affection  and  nonsense,  which  'twould  be  deceit  in  me 
to  render ;  nor  would  he  permit  me  to  remain  with  my  uncle. 


1 8  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Sir  Harcourt  takes  me  with  the  incumbrances  on  his  estate, 
and  I  shall  beg  to  be  left  among  the  rest  of  the  live  stock. 

(Crosses  left.) 

Pert.  Ah,  ]\Iiss !  but  some  day  you  might  chance  to 
stumble  over  the  man — what  could  you  do  then? 

Grace.  Do  !  beg  the  man's  pardon,  and  request  the  man 
to  pick  me  up  again. 

Pert.     Ah !   you  were  never  in  love,  Miss. 

Grace.  I  never  was,  nor  will  be,  till  I  am  tired  of  myself 
and  common  sense.  Love  is  a  pleasant  scape-goat  for  a 
little  epidemic  madness.  I  must  have  been  inoculated  in 
my  infancy,  for  the  infection  passes  over  poor  me  in 
contempt. 

Enter  James,  left. 

James.     Two  gentlemen,  Miss  Grace,  have  just  alighted. 

Grace.  Very  well,  James.  (Exit  James,  left.)  Love 
is  pictured  as  a  boy ;  in  another  century  they  will  be  wiser, 
and  paint  him  as  a  fool,  with  cap  and  bells,  without  a 
thought  above  the  jingling  of  his  own  folly.  Now,  Pert, 
remember  this  as  a  maxim — A  woman  is  always  in  love 
with  one  of  two  things. 

Pert.     What  are  they.  Miss? 

Grace.  A  man,  or  herself — and  I  know  which  is  the 
most  profitable.  (Exit,  left.) 

Pert.  I  wonder  what  my  Jenks  would  say,  if  I  was  to 
ask  him.  La !  here  cornes  Mr.  Meddle,  his  rival,  contem- 
porary solicitor,  as  he  calls  him — a  nasty,  prying,  ugly 
wretch — what  brings  him  here?  He  comes  puffed  with 
some  news.  (Retires  up,  right.) 

Enter  Meddle,  with  a  newspaper,  left. 


lond6n  assurance.  19 

Med.  I  have  secured  the  only  newspaper  in  the  village — 
my  character,  as  an  attorney-at-law,  depended  on  the 
monopoly  of  its  information.  I  took  it  up  by  chance, 
when  this  paragraph  met  my  astonished  view:  (Reads.) 
"We  understand  that  the  contract  of  marriage  so  long  in 
abeyance  on  account  of  the  lady's  minority,  is  about  to 
be  celebrated  at  Oak  Hall,  Gloucestershire,  the  well-known 
and  magnificent  mansion  of  Maximilian  Harkaway,  Esq., 
between  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly,  baronet,  of  fashionable 
celebrity,  and  Miss  Grace  Harkaway,  niece  to  the  said  Mr. 
Harkaway.  The  preparations  are  proceeding  in  the  good 
old  English  style."  (Sees  Pert.)  Ah!  here  is  Mrs.  Pert; 
couldn't  have  hit  upon  a  better  person.  I'll  cross-examine 
her — lady's  maid  to  Miss  Grace — confidential  purloiner  of 
second-hand  silk —  Ah,  Mrs.  Pert,  good-morning;  permit 
me  to  say — and  my  word  as  a  legal  character  is  not  unduly 
considered — I  venture  to  affirm  that  you  look  a — quite  like 
the — a — 

Pert.     (Left.)     Law!    Mr.  Meddle. 

Med.     (Right.)     Exactly,  like  the  law. 

Pert.  Ha !  indeed ;  complimentary,  I  confess  ;  like  the 
law;  tedious,  prosy,  made  up  of  musty  paper.  You  shan't 
have  a  long  suit  of  me.     Good-morning.  (Going.) 

Med.  Stay,  Mrs.  Pert;  don't  calumniate  my  calling,  or 
disseminate  vulgar  prejudices. 

Pert.  Vulgar !  you  talk  of  vulgarity  to  me  !  you,  whose 
sole  employment  is  to  sneak  about  like  a  pig,  snouting  out 
the  dusthole  of  society,  and  feeding  upon  the  bad  ends  of 
vice  !    You  miserable  specimen  of  a  bad  six-and-eightpence ! 

(FoUozi'ing  him  around  to  right.) 

Med.     (Right.)     But,  Mrs.  Pert — 


20  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Pert.  (Right  center.)  Don't  but  me,  sir;  I  won't  be 
butted  by  any  such  low  fellow. 

Med.     This  is  slander;    an  action  will  lie. 

Pert.  Let  it  lie ;  lying  is  your  trade.  I'll  tell  you  what, 
Mr.  Meddle;  if  I  had  my  will,  I  would  soon  put  a  check 
on  your  prying  propensities.  I'd  treat  you  as  the  farmers 
do  inquisitive  hogs. 

Med.     How  ? 

Pert.     I  would  ring  your  nose.      (Exit  into  house,  left.) 

Med.  Not  much  information  elicited  from  that  witness. 
Jenks  is  at  the  bottom  of  this.  I  have  very  little  hesitation 
in  saying  Jenks  is  a  libellous  rascal ;  I  heard  reports  that 
he  was  undermining  my  character  here,  through  Mrs.  Pert. 
Now  I'm  certain  of  it.  Assault  is  expensive ;  but  certainly 
I  will  put  by  a  small  weekly  stipendium,  until  I  can  afford 
to  kick  Jenks. 

Daz.     (Outside.)     Come  along;    this  way! 

Med.  Ah !  whom  have  we  here  ?  Visitors ;  I'll  address 
them. 

Enter  Dazzle,  left. 

Daz.  Who's  this,  I  wonder;  one  of  the  family?  I 
must  know  him.     (To  Meddle.)     Ah!    how  are  ye? 

Med.  Quite  well.  Just  arrived  ? — ah ! — um  !  Might  I 
request  the  honor  of  knowing  whom  I  address? 

Daz.     Richard  Dazzle,  Esquire ;   and  you — 

]\Ied.     Mark  Meddle,  attorney-at-law. 

Enter  Young  Courtly,  left. 

Daz.     What  detained  you? 

Young  C.  My  dear  fellow,  I  have  just  seen  such  a 
woman — 


A.  M.  Hartwell,  191 1, 
as  Grace  Harkaiuay. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  2  1 

Daz.  (Aside.)  Hush!  (Aloud.)  Permit  me  to  intro- 
duce you  to  my  very  old  friend,  Meddle.  He's  a  capital 
fellow;    know  him. 

Med.     (Right.)     I  feel  honored.    Who  is  your  friend? 

Daz.  Oh,  he?  What,  my  friend?  Oh!  Augustus 
Hamilton. 

Young  C.  How  d'ye  do?  (Looking  off.)  There  she 
is  again ! 

Med.     (Looking  off.)     Why,  that  is  Miss  Grace. 

Daz.     (Left  center.)     Of  course,  Grace. 

Young  C.     (Center.)     I'll  go  and  introduce  myself. 

(Dazzle  stops  him.) 

Daz.  (Aside.)  What  are  you  about?  would  you  insult 
my  old  friend  Puddle  by  running  away?  (Aloud.)  I  say. 
Puddle,  just  show  my  friend  the  lions,  while  I  say  how 
d'ye  do  to  my  young  friend  Grace.  (Aside.)  Cultivate 
his  acquaintance. 

(Exit,  I.  u.  e.    Young  Courtly  looks  after  him.) 

Med.     Mr.  Hamilton,  might  I  take  the  liberty? 

Young  C.     (Looking  off.)     Confound  the  fellow! 

Med.     Sir,  what  did  you  remark? 

Young  C.  She's  gone !  Oh,  are  you  here  still,  Mr. 
Thingomerry  Puddle? 

Med.     Meddle,  sir,  Meddle,  in  the  list  of  attorneys. 

Young  C.  Well,  Muddle  or  Puddle,  or  whoever  you 
are,  you  are  a  bore. 

Med.  (Aside.)  How  excessively  odd!  Mrs.  Pert  said 
I  was  a  pig;   now  I'm  a  boar! 

Young  C.  Mr.  Thingamy,  will  you  take  a  word  of 
advice  ? 

Med.     Feel  honored. 


22  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Young  C.     Get  out. 

AIed.     Do  you  mean  to — I  don't  understand. 

Young  C.  Delighted  to  quicken  your  apprehension. 
You  are  an  ass,  Puddle. 

Med.  Ha!  ha!  another  quadruped!  Yes;  beautiful. 
(Aside.)  I  wish  he'd  call  me  something  libellous  ;  but  that 
would  be  too  much  to  expect.     (Aloud.)     Anything  else? 

Young  C.     Some  miserable  pettifogging  scoundrel! 

Med.     Good!   ha!   ha! 

Young  C.     What  do  you  mean  by  laughing  at  me? 

Med.     Ha !    ha !    excellent !   delicious ! 

Young  C.     Mr. ,  are  you  ambitious  of  a  kicking? 

]\Ied.     Very,  very — Go  on — kick — go  on. 

Young  C.  (Looking  off.)  Here  she  comes !  I'll  speak 
to  her. 

Med.     But,  sir — sir — 

Young  C.     Oh,  go  to  the  devil!  (Runs  off,  I.  u.  e.) 

Med.  There,  there's  a  chance  lost — gone!  I  have  no 
hesitation  in  saying  that,  in  another  minute,  I  should  have 
been  kicked ;  literally  kicked — a  legal  luxury.  Costs,  dam- 
ages, and  actions  rose  up  like  sky-rockets  in  my  aspiring 
soul,  with  golden  tails  reaching  to  the  infinity  of  my  hopes. 
(Looking.)  They  are  coming  this  way;  Mr.  Hamilton  in 
close  conversation  with  Lady  Courtly  that  is  to  be.  Crim. 
Con.  Courtly  versus  Hamilton — damages  problematical — 
Meddle,  chief  witness  for  plaintiff.  I'll  take  down  their 
conversation  verbatim.  (Retires  behind  a  bush,  right.) 

Enter  Grace,  followed  by  Young  Courtly,  /.  u.  e. 

Grace.  (Right.)  Perhaps  you  would  follow  your 
friend  into  the  dining-room ;  refreshment,  after  your  long 
journey,  must  be  requisite. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  23 

Young  C.  {Left.)  Pardon  me,  madam  ;  but  the  lovely 
garden  and  the  loveliness  before  me  is  better  refreshment 
than  I  could  procure  in  any  dining-room. 

Grace.  Ha!  Your  company  and  compliments  arrive 
together. 

Young  C.  I  trust  that  a  passing  remark  will  not  spoil 
so  welcome  an  introduction  as  this  by  offending  you. 

Grace.  I  am  not  certain  that  anything  you  could  say 
would  offend  me. 

Young  C.     I  never  meant — 

Grace.  I  thought  not.  In  turn,  pardon  me,  when  I 
request  you  will  commence  your  visit  with  this  piece 
of  information — I  consider  compliments  impertinent,  and 
sweetmeat  language  fulsome. 

Young  C.  I  would  condemn  my  tongue  to  a  Pytha- 
gorean silence,  if  I  thought  it  could  attempt  to  flatter. 

Grace.  It  strikes  me,  sir,  that  you  are  a  stray  bee  from 
the  hive  of  fashion ;  if  so,  reserve  your  honey  for  its  proper 
cell.  A  truce  to  compliments. — You  have  just  arrived  from 
tozvn,  I  apprehend. 

Young  C.  This  moment  I  left  mighty  London,  under 
the  fever  of  a  full  season,  groaning  with  the  noisy  pulse 
of  wealth  and  the  giddy  whirling  brain  of  fashion. 
Enchanting,  busy  London !  how  have  I  prevailed  on  myself 
to  desert  you !  Next  week  the  new  ballet  comes  out — 
the  week  after  comes  Ascot.     Oh ! 

Grace.     How  agonizing  must  be  the  reflection ! 

Young  C.  Torture !  Can  you  inform  me  how  you 
manage  to  avoid  suicide  here?  If  there  was  but  an  opera, 
even,  within  twenty  miles !  We  couldn't  get  up  a  rustic 
ballet  among  the  village  girls  ?    No  ? — ah ! 


2  4  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Grace.  I  am  afraid  you  would  find  that  difficult.  How 
I  contrive  to  support  life  I  don't  know — it  is  wonderful — 
but  I  have  not  precisely  contemplated  suicide  yet,  nor  do  I 
miss  the  opera. 

Young  C.     How  can  you  manage  to  kill  time? 

Gr.\ce.  I  can't.  Men  talk  of  killing-  time,  while  time 
quietly  kills  them.  I  have  many  employments — this  week 
I  devote  to  study  and  various  amusements — next  week  to 
being  married — the  following  week  to  repentance,  perhaps. 

Young  C.     Married! 

Grace.  You  seem  surprised ;  I  believe  it  is  of  frequent 
occurrence  in  the  metropolis — is  it  not  ? 

Young  C.  O,  yes,  I  believe  they  do  it  there.  Might  I 
ask  to  whom? 

Grace.  I  have  never  seen  him  yet,  but  he  is  a  gentleman 
who  has  been  strongly  recommended  to  me  for  the  situation 
of  husband. 

Young  C.     You  seem  to  laugh  at  love. 

Grace.  Love !  why  the  very  word  is  a  breathing  satire 
upon  man's  reason — a  mania,  indigenous  to  humanity — 
nature's  jester,  who  plays  off  tricks  upon  the  world,  and 
trips  up  common  sense.  When  I'm  in  love,  I'll  write  an 
almanac,  for  very  lack  of  wit — prognosticate  the  sighing 
season — when  to  beware  of  tears — about  this  time  expect 
matrimony  to  be  prevalent !  Ha !  ha !  Why  should  I  lay 
out  my  life  in  love's  bonds  upon  the  bare  security  of  a 
man's  word? 

Enter  James,  left. 

James.  The  squire,  madam,  has  just  arrived,  and 
another  gentleman  with  him.  {Exit  James,  left.) 

Grace.     {Aside.)     My  intended,  I  suppose. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  25 

Young  C.  I  perceive  you  are  one  of  the  railers  against 
what  is  termed  the  follies  of  high  life. 

Grace.  No,  not  particularly;  I  deprecate  all  folly.  By 
what  prerogative  can  the  west-end  mint  issue  absurdity, 
which,  if  coined  in  the  east,  would  be  voted  vulgar? 

Young  C.  By  a  sovereign  right — because  it  has  Fash- 
ion's head  upon  its  side,  and  that  stamps  it  current. 

Grace.  Poor  Fashion,  for  how  many  sins  hast  thou  to 
answer !  The  gambler  pawns  his  birthright  for  fashion — 
the  roue  steals  his  friend's  wife  for  fashion — each  abandons 
himself  to  the  storm  of  impulse,  calling  it  the  breeze  of 
fashion. 

Young  C.  Pardon  me,  madam,  you  wrong  yourself  to 
rail  against  your  inheritance — the  kingdom  to  which  loveli- 
ness and  wit  attest  your  title. 

Grace.  A  mighty  realm,  forsooth — with  milliners  for 
ministers,  a  cabinet  of  coxcombs,  envy  for  my  homage,  ruin 
for  my  revenue — my  right  of  rule  depending  on  the  shape 
of  a  bonnet  or  the  set  of  a  pelisse,  with  the  next  grand 
noodle  as  my  heir-apparent.  Mr.  Hamilton,  when  I  am 
crowned,  I  shall  feel  happy  to  abdicate  in  your  favor. 

{Curtesy  and  exit  into  house,  left.) 

Young  C.  What  did  she  mean  by  that?  Hang  me  if  I 
can  understand  her — she  is  evidently  not  used  to  society. 
Ha ! — takes  every  word  I  say  for  infallible  truth — requires 
the  solution  of  a  compliment,  as  if  it  were  a  problem  in 
Euclid.  She  said  she  was  about  to  marry,  but  I  rather 
imagine  she  was  in  jest.  'Pon  my  life,  I  feel  very  queer 
at  the  contemplation  of  such  an  idea — I'll  follow  her, 
(Meddle  comes  dozvn,  left.)  Oh!  perhaps  this  booby  can 
inform  me  something  about  her.  (Meddle  makes  signs  at 
him.)     What  the  devil  is  he  at? 


26  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Med.     It  won't  do — no — ah !    um — it's  not  to  be  done. 

Young  C.     What  do  you  mean? 

Med.  (Points  after  Grace.)  Counsel  retained — cause 
to  come  off. 

Young  C.     Cause  to  come  off? 

Med.     Miss  Grace  is  about  to  be  married. 

Young  C.     Is  it  possible? 

Med.  Certainly.  If  I  have  the  drawing  out  of  the 
deeds — 

Young  C.     To  whom? 

Med.  Ha !  hem  !  Oh,  yes  !  I  dare  say — information 
being-  scarce  in  the  market,  I  hope  to  make  mine  valuable. 

Young  C.     Married !    married !  {Pacing  the  stage. ) 

Med.     Now  I  shall  have  another  chance. 

Young  C.  I'll  run  and  ascertain  the  truth  of  this  from 
Dazzle.  {Exit,  left.) 

Med.  It's  of  no  use ;  he  either  dare  not  kick  me,  or  he 
can't  afford  it — in  either  case,  he  is  beneath  my  notice.  Ah ! 
who  comes  here? — can  it  be  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly  himself? 
It  can  be  no  other. 

Enter  Cool,  left. 

Sir,  I  have  the  honor  to  bid  you  welcome  to  Oak  Hall 
and  the  village  of  Oldborough. 

Cool.  {Aside.)  Excessively  polite.  {Aloud.)  Sir, 
thank  you. 

Med.     The  township  contains  two  thousand  inhabitants. 

Cool.     Does  it?    I  am  delighted  to  hear  it. 

{Crosses  right.) 

Med.  {Aside.)  I  can  charge  him  for  that — ahem — six 
and    eight-pence    is    not    much — but    it    is    a    beginning. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  2^ 

{Aloud.)  If  you  will  permit  me,  I  can  inform  you  of  the 
different  commodities  for  which  it  is  famous. 

Cool.  Much  obHged — but  here  comes  Sir  Harcourt 
Courtly,  my  master,  and  Mr.  Harkaway — any  other  time 
I  shall  feel  delighted. 

Med.     Oh!     {Aside.)     Mistook  the  man  for  the  master. 

{Retires  up,  right.) 

Enter  Max  and  Sir  Harcourt,  left. 

Max.  {Center.)  Here  we  are  at  last.  Now  give  ye 
welcome  to  Oak  Hall,  Sir  Harcourt,  heartily! 

Sir  H.  {Left  center,  languidly.)  Cool,  assist  me. 
(Cool  takes  off  his  cloak  and  gloves;  gives  him  white 
gloves  and  handkerchief,  then  places  a  flower  in  his  coat.) 

Max.  Why,  you  require  unpacking  as  carefully  as  my 
best  bin  of  port.  Well,  now  you  are  decanted,  tell  me  what 
did  you  think  of  my  park  as  we  came  along? 

Sir  H.  That  it  would  never  come  to  an  end.  You  said 
it  was  only  a  stone's  throw  from  your  infernal  lodge  to  the 
house ;    why,  it's  ten  miles,  at  least. 

Max.     I'll  do  it  in  ten  minutes  any  day. 

Sir  H.  Yes,  in  a  steam  carriage.  Cool,  perfume  my 
handkerchief. 

Max.  Don't  do  it.  Don't!  perfume  in  the  country! 
why,  it's  high  treason  in  the  very  face  of  Nature ;  'tis  intro- 
ducing the  robbed  to  the  robber.  Here  are  the  sweets  from 
which  your  fulsome  essences  are  pilfered,  and  libelled  with 
their  names;    don't  insult  them,  too. 

(Meddle  comes  dozvn,  center.) 

Sir  H.  {To  Meddle.)  Oh!  cull  me  a  bouquet,  my 
man ! 


2  8  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Max.  (Turning.)  Ah,  Meddle!  how  are  you?  This 
is  Lawyer  Meddle.  {Goes  up,  right.) 

Sir  H.     Oh !    I  took  him  for  one  of  your  people. 

Med.  Ah  !  naturally — um — Sir  Harcourt  Courtly,  I 
have  the  honor  to  congratulate — happy  occasion  approaches. 
Ahem !  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  this  z>cry  happy 
occasion  approaches. 

Sir  H.     Cool,  is  the  conversation  addressed  towards  me? 

Cool.     (Left.)     I  beUeve  so,  Sir  Harcourt. 

Med.  (Center.)  Oh,  certainly!  I  was  complimenting 
you. 

Sir  H.  Sir,  you  are  very  good;  the  honor  is  unde- 
served ;  but  I  am  only  in  the  habit  of  receiving  compliments 
from  the  fair  sex.  Men's  admiration  is  so  damnably  insipid. 
(Crosses  to  Max,  zuho  is  seated  on  bench,  left.) 

Med.     I  had  hoped  to  make  a  unit  on  that  occasion. 

Sir  H.  Yes,  and  you  hoped  to  put  an  infernal  number 
of  cyphers  after  your  unit  on  that  and  any  other  occasion. 

Med.  Ha !  ha !  very  good.  Why,  I  did  hope  to  have 
the  honor  of  drawing  out  the  deeds ;  for,  whatever  Jenks 
may  say  to  the  contrary,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying — 

Sir  H.  (Putting  him  aside;  to  Max.)  H  the  future 
Lady  Courtly  be  visible  at  so  unfashionable  an  hour  as  this, 
I  shall  beg  to  be  introduced. 

Max.  Visible !  Ever  since  six  this  morning,  I'll  warrant 
ye.    Two  to  one  she  is  at  dinner. 

Sir  H.  Dinner !  Is  it  possible  ?  Lady  Courtly  dine  at 
half -past  one  p.  m.? 

Med.  (Down  left.)  I  rather  prefer  that  hour  to  peck 
a  little  my — 

Sir  H.     Dear  me !    who  was  addressing  you  ? 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  29 

Med.     Oh !    I  beg  pardon. 
Max.     Here,  James !     (Calling.) 

Enter  James,  left. 

Tell  Miss  Grace  to  come  here  directly.  (Exit  James,  into 
house,  left.)  Now  prepare,  Courtly,  for,  though  I  say  it, 
she  is — with  the  exception  of  my  bay  mare,  Kitty — the 
handsomest  thing  in  the  country.  Considering  she  is  a 
biped,  she  is  a  wonder !  Full  of  blood,  sound  wind  and 
limb,  plenty  of  bone,  sweet  coat,  in  fine  condition,  with  a 
thoroughbred  step,  as  dainty  as  a  pet  greyhound. 

Sir  H.     Damme,  don't  compare  her  to  a  horse ! 

Max.  Well,  I  wouldn't,  but  she's  almost  as  fine  a  crea- 
ture— close  similarities. 

Med.  Oh,  very  fine  creature !  Close  similarity,  amount- 
ing to  identity. 

Sir  H.  Good  gracious,  sir!  What  can  a  lawyer  know 
about  women? 

Med.  Everything.  The  consistorial  court  is  a  fine  study 
of  the  character,  and  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  I 
have  examined  more  women  than  Jenks,  or — 

Sir  H.     Oh,  damn  Jenks! 

Med.  Sir,  thank  you.  Damn  him  again,  sir,  damn  him 
again ! 

Enter  Grace,  from  house,  left. 

Grace.     (Runs  to  him.)     My  dear  uncle! 
Max.     Ah,  Grace,  you  little  jade,  come  here. 
Sir  H.     (Eyeing  her  through  his  glass.)     Oh,  dear!  she 
is  a  rural  Venus ! 

Max.     Won't  you  kiss  your  old  uncle?     (Kisses  her.) 
4 


30  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Sir  H.  (Draws  an  agonizing  face.)  Oh!-^ah — um! — 
N'importc! — my  privilege  in  embryo — hem!  It's  very 
tantalizing,  though. 

Max.     You  are  not  glad  to  see  me,  you  are  not. 

(Kissing  her  again.) 
Sir  H.     I  should  be  sorry  to  curtail  any  little  ebullition 
of  affection;  but — ahem!    May  I  be  permitted? 

Max.  Of  course  you  may.  There,  Grace,  is  Sir  Har- 
court,  your  husband  that  will  be.     Go  to  him,  girl. 

(She  court sies.) 

Sir  H.     Permit  me  to  do  homage  to  the  charms,  the 

presence  of  which  have  placed  me  in  sight  of  Paradise. 

(Sir  Harcourt  and  Grace  retire.) 

Enter  Dazzle,  left. 

Daz.     Ah!  old  fellow,  how  are  you ?    (Crosses  to  ^iAyi.) 
Max.     (Right  center.)     I'm  glad  to  see  you.     Are  you 

comfortably  quartered  yet,  eh? 

Daz.     Splendidly  quartered!     What  a  place  you've  got 

here !     Here,  Hamilton. 

Enter  Young  Courtly,  from  house,  doivn  right. 

Permit  me  to  introduce  my  friend,  Augustus  Hamilton. 
Capital  fellow !  drinks  like  a  sieve,  and  rides  like  a  thunder- 
storm. 

Max.  (Right  center.)  Sir,  I'm  devilish  glad  to  see  you. 
Here,  Sir  Harcourt,  permit  me  to  introduce  to  you — 

(Goes  up  to  Sir  Harcourt.) 

Young  C.     The  devil! 

Daz.     (Aside.)     What's  the  matter? 

Young  C.  (Aside.)  Why,  that  is  my  governor,  by 
Jupiter ! 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  3 1 

Daz.  (Aside.)  What,  old  Whiskers!  you  don't  say 
that? 

Young  C.     (Aside.)     It  is;    what's  to  be  done  now? 

Max.  (Advancing,  center.)  Mr.  Hamilton,  Sir  Har- 
court  Courtly — Sir  Harcourt  Courtly,  Mr.  Hamilton. 

Sir  H.  (Advancing,  left  center.)  Hamilton!  Bless 
me!  Why,  Charles,  is  it  possible — why.  Max,  that's  my 
son! 

Young  C.     (Aside.)     What  shall  I  do? 

Max.     Your  son? 

Grace.  Your  son.  Sir  Harcourt !  have  you  a  son  as  old 
as  that  gentleman? 

Sir  H.  No — that  is — a — yes, — not  by  twenty  years — a 
— 'Charles,  why  don't  you  answer  me,  sir? 

Young  C.     (Aside  to  Dazzle.)     What  shall  I  say? 

Daz.     (Aside.)     Deny  your  identity. 

Young  C.  (Aside.)  Capital!  (Aloud.)  What's  the 
matter,  sir? 

Sir  H.     How  came  you  down  here,  sir? 

Young  C.  By  one  of  Newman's  best  fours — in  twelve 
hours  and  a  quarter. 

Sir  H.     Isn't  your  name  Charles  Courtly? 

Young  C.     Not  to  my  knowledge. 

Sir  H.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  are  usually  called 
Augustus  Hamilton? 

Young  C.     Lamentable  fact — and  quite  correct. 

Sir  H.     Cool,  is  that  my  son? 

Cool.  (Left.)  No,  sir — it  is  not  Mr.  Charles — but  it 
is  very  like  him. 

Max.     I  cannot  understand  all  this.  (Goes  up.) 

Grace.     (Aside.)     I  think  I  can.  (Goes  up.) 


32  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Daz.  (Aside  to  Young  C.)  Give  him  a  touch  of  the 
indignant. 

Young  C.  (Crosses  right  center.)  Allow  me  to  say, 
Sir  What-d'ye-call-em-Hartly — 

Sir  H.     Hartly,  sir !     Courtly,  sir !     Courtly  ! 

Young  C.  Well,  Hartly,  or  Court-heart,  or  whatever 
your  name  may  be,  I  say  your  conduct  is — a — a — ,  and  were 
it  not  for  the  presence  of  this  lady,  I  should  feel  inclined 
— to — to — 

Sir  H.  No,  no,  that,  can't  be  my  son, — he  never  would 
address  me  in  that  way. 

Max.     (Coming  doivn.)     What  is  all  this? 

Sir  H.  Sir,  your  likeness  to  my  son  Charles  is  so  aston- 
ishing, that  it,  for  a  moment — the  equilibrium  of  my  eti- 
quette— 'pon  my  life,  I — permit  me  to  request  your  pardon. 

Med.  (Left.)  Sir  Harcourt,  don't  apologize,  don't — 
bring  an  action.     I'm  witness. 

Sir  H.     Some  one  take  this  man  away. 

(Meddle  goes  up  stage  with  Cool.) 

Enter  James,  from  house,  left. 

James.     Luncheon  is  on  the  table,  sir. 

Sir  H.  Miss  Harkaway,  I  never  swore  before  a  lady  in 
my  life — except  when  I  promised  to  love  and  cherish  the 
late  Lady  Courtly,  which  I  took  care  to  preface  with  an 
apology, — I  was  compelled  to  the  ceremony,  and  con- 
sequently not  answerable  for  the  language — but  to  that 
gentleman's  identity  I  would  have  pledged — my  hair. 

Grace.  (Aside.)  If  that  security  were  called  for,  I 
suspect  the  answer  would  be — no  effects. 

(Exeunt  Sir  Harcourt  and  Grace,  left.) 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  33 

Med.  {To  Max.)  I  have  something  very  particular  to 
communicate. 

Max.     Can't  listen  at  present.       {Exit,  left,  into  house.) 

Med.  {To  Dazzle  and  Young  C.)  I  can  afford  you 
information,  which  I — 

Daz.     Oh,  don't  bother! 

Young  C.     Go  to  the  devil. 

{Exeunt  left,  into  house.) 

Med.  Now,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  is  the 
height  of  ingratitude. — Oh — Mr.  Cool — can  you  oblige  me? 

{Presents  his  account.) 

Cool.     {Right.)     Why,  what  is  all  this? 

Med.  Small  account  versus  you — to  giving  information 
concerning  the  last  census  of  the  population  of  Oldborough 
and  vicinity,  six  and  eightpence. 

Cool.     Oh,  you  mean  to  make  me  pay  for  this,  do  you? 

Med.     Unconditionally. 

Cool.  Well,  I  have  no  objection — the  charge  is  fair — 
but  remember,  I  am  a  servant  on  board  wages, — will  you 
throw  in  a  little  advice,  gratis — if  I  give  you  the  money? 

Med.     Ahem! — I  will. 

Cool.  A  fellow  has  insulted  me.  I  want  to  abuse  him — 
what  terms  are  actionable? 

Med.  You  may  call  him  anything  you  please,  providing 
there  are  no  witnesses. 

Cool.  Oh,  may  I?  {Looks  around.)  Then  you  rascally, 
pettifogging  scoundrel! 

Med.     Hello!  {Retreats  to  right.) 

Cool.  {Following  him.)  You  mean — dirty — disgrace 
to  your  profession. 

Med.     Libel — slander — 


34  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Cool.     (Going  up  left;  turns.)     Ay,  but  where  are  your 
witnesses  ? 

Med.     Give  me  the  costs — six  and  eightpence. 

Cool.     I  deny  that  you  gave  me  the  information  at  all. 

Med.     You  do! 

Cool.     Yes,  where  are  your  witnesses? 

(Exit  into  house,  left.) 
Med.     Ah — damme,     I'm  done  at  last! 

(Exit  into  house,  left.) 

End  of  Act  Second. 


ACT   THIRD 

Scene — A  morning  room  in  Oak  Hall,  French  zvindows 
opening  to  the  lawn.  Max  and  Sir  Harcourt  seated  on 
one  side,  Dazzle  on  the  other;  Grace  and  Young  Courtly 
playing  chess  at  back.    All  dressed  for  dinner. 

Max.     (Aside  to  Sir  Harcourt.)     What  can  I  do? 

Sir  H.     Get  rid  of  them  civilly. 

Max.  What,  turn  them  out,  after  I  particularly  invited 
them  to  stay  a  month  or  two? 

Sir  H.  Why,  they  are  disreputable  characters;  as  for 
that  young  fellow,  in  whom  my  Lady  Courtly  appears  so 
particularly  absorbed — I  am  bewildered — I  have  written  to 
town  for  my  Charles,  my  boy — it  certainly  is  the  most 
extraordinary  likeness — 

Daz.     Sir  Harcourt,  I  have  an  idea — 

Sir  H.  Sir,  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it.  (Aside  to  Max.) 
That  fellow  is  a  swindler. 

Max.     I  met  him  at  your  house. 

Sir  H.     Never  saw  him  before  in  all  my  life. 

Daz.  (Crossing  to  Sir  Harcourt.)  I  will  bet  you  five 
to  one  that  I  can  beat  you  three  out  of  four  games  of  bil- 
liards, with  one  hand. 

Sir  H.     No,  sir. 

Daz.     I  don't  mind  giving  you  ten  points  in  fifty. 

Sir  H.     Sir,  I  never  gamble. 

Daz.  You  don't!  Well,  I'll  teach  you — easiest  thing  in 
life — you  have  every  requisite — good  temper. 


36  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Sir  H.     I  have  not,  sir. 

Daz.     a  long-headed,  knowing  old  buck. 

Sir  H.     Sir! 

{They  go  up,  conversing  with  Max,  center.) 

Grace.  Really,  Mr.  Hamilton,  you  improve.  A  young 
man  pays  us  a  visit,  as  you  half  intimate,  to  escape  incon- 
venient friends — that  is  complimentary  to  us,  his  hosts. 

Young  C.     Nay,  that  is  too  severe. 

Grace.  After  an  acquaintanceship  of  two  days,  you  sit 
dow^n  to  teach  me  chess  and  domestic  economy  at  the 
same  time.  Might  I  ask  where  you  graduated  in  that 
science — where  you  learned  all  that  store  of  matrimonial 
advice  which  you  have  obliged  me  with? 

(They  come  forward.) 

Young  C.  I  imbibed  it,  madam,  from  the  moment  I 
beheld  you,  and  having  studied  my  subject  con  aniore,  took 
my  degree  from  your  eyes. 

Grace.     Oh,  I  see  you  are  a  Master  of  Arts  already. 

Young  C.  Unfortunately,  no — I  shall  remain  a  bachelor 
— till  you  can  assist  me  to  that  honor. 

(Sir  Harcourt  rises.) 

Daz.     {Aside,  right.)     How  do  you  get  on? 

Young  C.  {Aside.)  Splendidly!  Keep  the  old  boy 
away! 

Sir  H.  {Going  to  them.)  Is  the  conversation  strictly 
confidential? — or  might  I  join? 

Daz.  {Taking  his  arm.)  Oh,  not  in  the  least,  my  dear 
sir — we  were  remarking  that  rifle  shooting  was  an  excellent 
diversion  during  the  summer  months. 

Sir  H.     {Drawing  himself  up.)    Sir,  I  was  addressing — 

Daz.  And  I  was  saying  what  a  pity  it  was  I  couldn't 
find  any  one  reasonable  enough  to  back  his  opinion  with 


W.  DeF.  Manice,  1911, 
as  Charles  Courtly. 


H.  T.  Warren,  1910, 
as  Dazzle. 


A.  M.  Hartwell,  igri, 
as  Grace  Harkaway . 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  37 

long-  odds — come  out  on  the  lawn,  and  pitch  up  your  hat, 
and  I  will  hold  you  ten  to  one  I  put  a  bullet  into  it  every 
time,  at  forty  paces. 

Sir  H.     No,  sir — I  consider  you — 

Max.  (At  window.)  Here,  all  of  you — look,  here  is 
Lady  Gay  Spanker  coming  across  the  lawn  at  a  hand 
gallop ! 

Sir  H.  (Running  to  windoiv.)  Bless  me,  the  horse  is 
running  away! 

Max.     Look  how  she  takes  that  fence!   there's  a  seat. 

Sir  H.  (Comes  down,  left  center.)  Lady  Gay  Spanker 
— who  may  she  be? 

Grace.     (Down  center.)     Gay  Spanker,  Sir  Harcourt? 
My  cousin  and  dearest  friend — you  must  like  her. 

Sir  H.     It  will  be  a  hard  task  in  your  presence. 

Grace.     I  am  sure  she  will  like  you. 

Sir  H.     Ha !   ha !     I  flatter  myself. 

Young  C.     Who,  and  what  is  she? 

Grace.  Glee,  glee,  made  a  living  thing — Nature,  in  some 
frolic  mood,  shut  up  a  merry  devil  in  her  eye,  and,  spiting 
Art,  stole  Joy's  brightest  harmony  to  thrill  her  laugh,  which 
peals  out  sorrow's  knell.  Her  cry  rings  loudest  in  the 
field — the  very  echo  loves  it  best,  and  as  each  hill  attempts 
to  ape  her  voice.  Earth  seems  to  laugh  that  it  made  a  thing 
so  glad. 

Max.     (Left.)     Ay,  the  merriest  minx   I   ever  kissed. 

(Lady  Gay  laughs  zvithout.) 

Lady  Gay.     (Without.)     Max! 

Max.     Come  in,  you  mischievous  puss. 

Enter  James,  right. 


3^  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

James.  Mr.  Adolphus  and  Lady  Gay  Spanker.  (Exit.) 
Enter  Lady  Gay,  right,  fully  equipped  in  riding  habit,  etc. 

Lady  G.  Ha !  ha !  Well,  governor,  how  are  ye  ?  How 
are  you,  Grace,  dear?  (Kisses  her.)  There,  don't  fidget. 
Max.  And  there — (kisses  him,  right  center)  there's  one 
for  you. 

Sir  H.     (Left.)     Ahem! 

Lady  G.  (Center.)  Oh,  gracious,  I  didn't  see  you  had 
visitors. 

Max.  (Right.)  Permit  me  to  introduce — (crosses 
center)  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly,  Lady  Gay  Spanker.  Mr. 
Dazzle,  Mr.  Hamilton — Lady  Gay  Spanker. 

Sir  H.     (Aside.)     A  devilish  fine  woman! 

Daz.  (Aside  to  Sir  Harcourt.)  She's  a  devilish  fine 
woman. 

Lady  G.  You  mustn't  think  anything  of  the  liberties  I 
take  with  my  old  papa  here — bless  him ! 

(Kisses  him  again.) 

Sir  H.  Oh,  no!  (Aside.)  I  only  thought  I  should  like 
to  be  in  his  place. 

Lady  G.  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,  Sir  Harcourt. 
Now  we  shall  be  able  to  make  a  decent  figure  at  the  heels 
of  a  hunt. 

Sir  H.     Does  your  ladyship  hunt? 

Lady  G.  Ha!  I  say,  governor,  does  my  ladyship  hunt? 
I  rather  flatter  myself  that  I  do  hunt!  Why,  Sir  Harcourt, 
one  might  as  well  live  without  laughing  as  without  hunting. 
It's  indigenous  to  humanity.  Man  was  formed  expressly 
to  fit  a  horse.  Are  not  hedges  and  ditches  created  for  leaps  ? 
Of  course !  And  I  look  upon  foxes  to  be  one  of  the  most 
blessed  dispensations  of  a  benign  Providence. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  39 

Sir  H.  Yes,  it  is  all  very  well  in  the  abstract;  I  tried 
it  once. 

Lady  G.     Once  !     Only  once  ? 

Sir  H.  Once,  only  once.  And  then  the  animal  ran  away 
with  me. 

Lady  G.     Why,  you  would  not  have  him  walk? 

Sir  H.  Finding  my  society  disagreeable,  he  instituted 
a  series  of  kicks,  with  a  view  to  removing  the  annoyance; 
but  aided  by  the  united  stays  of  the  mane  and  tail,  I  frus- 
trated his  intentions.  (All  laugh.)  His  next  resource, 
however,  was  more  effectual,  for  he  succeeded  in  rubbing 
me  off  against  a  tree. 

Max  and  Lady  G.     Ha !   ha !   ha ! 

Daz.  How  absurd  you  must  have  looked  with  your  legs 
and  arms  in  the  air,  Hke  a  shipwrecked  tea-table. 

Sir  H.  Sir,  I  never  looked  absurd  in  my  life.  Ah,  it 
may  be  very  amusing  in  relation,  I  dare  say,  but  very 
unpleasant  in  effect. 

Lady  G.  I  pity  you.  Sir  Harcourt;  it  was  criminal  in 
your  parents  to  neglect  your  education  so  shamefully. 

Sir  H.  Possibly;  but  be  assured,  I  shall  never  break 
my  neck  awkwardly  from  a  horse,  when  it  might  be  accom- 
plished with  less  trouble  from  a  bedroom  window. 

Young  C.  (Right,  aside.)  My  dad  will  be  caught  by 
this  she  Bucephalus  tamer. 

Max.  Ah!  Sir  Harcourt,  had  you  been  here  a  month 
ago,  you  would  have  witnessed  the  most  glorious  run  that 
ever  swept  over  merry  England's  green  cheek — a  steeple- 
chase, sir,  which  I  intended  to  win,  but  my  horse  broke  down 
the  day  before.  I  had  a  chance,  notwithstanding,  and  but 
for  Gay  here,  I  should  have  won.  How  I  regretted  my 
absence  from  it!    How  did  my  filly  behave  herself.  Gay? 


40  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Lady  G.  Gloriously,  Max !  gloriously !  There  were 
sixteen  horses  in  the  field,  all  mettle  to  the  bone ;  the  start 
was  a  picture — away  we  went  in  a  cloud — pell  mell — helter- 
skelter — the  fools  first,  as  usual,  using  themselves  up — we 
soon  passed  them — first  your  Kitty,  then  my  Blueskin,  and 
Craven's  colt  last.  Then  came  the  tug — Kitty  skimmed  the 
walls — Blueskin  flew  over  the  fences — the  colt  neck-and- 
neck,  and  half  a  mile  to  run — at  last  the  colt  baulked  a  leap 
and  went  wild.  Kitty  and  I  had  it  all  to  ourselves — she 
was  three  lengths  ahead  as  we  breasted  the  last  wall,  six 
feet,  if  an  inch,  and  a  ditch  on  the  other  side.  Now,  for 
the  first  time,  I  gave  Blueskin  his  head — ha!  ha!  Away 
he  flew  like  a  thunderbolt — over  went  the  filly — I  over  the 
same  spot,  leaving  Kitty  in  the  ditch — walked  the  steeple, 
eight  miles  in  thirty  minutes,  and  scarcely  turned  a  hair. 

{Crosses  right  and  left  center.) 

All.     Bravo !     Bravo ! 

Lady  G.     {Left  center.)     Do  you  hunt? 

Daz.  {Left.)  Hunt!  I  belong  to  a  hunting  family.  I 
was  born  on  horseback  and  cradled  in  a  kennel !  Ay,  and 
I  hope  I  may  die  with  a  whoo-whoop ! 

Max.  {To  Sir  Harcourt.)  You  must  leave  your 
town  habits  in  the  smoke  of  London ;  here  we  rise  with  the 
lark. 

Sir  H.  Haven't  the  remotest  conception  when  that 
period  is. 

Grace.  {Center.)  The  man  that  misses  sunrise  loses 
the  sweetest  part  of  his  existence. 

Sir  H.  Oh,  pardon  me ;  I  have  seen  sunrise  frequently 
after  a  ball,  or  from  the  windows  of  my  travelling  carriage, 
and  I  always  considered  it  excessively  disagreeable. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  4 1 

Grace.  I  love  to  watch  the  first  tear  that  gUstens  in  the 
opening  eye  of  morning,  the  silent  song  the  flowers  breathe, 
the  thrilling  choir  of  the  woodland  minstrels,  to  which 
the  modest  brook  trickles  applause ;  these  swelling  out  the 
sweetest  chord  of  sweet  creation's  matins,  seem  to  pour 
some  soft  and  merry  tale  into  the  daylight's  ear,  as  if  the 
waking  world  had  dreamed  a  happy  thing,  and  now  smiled 
o'er  the  telling  of  it. 

Sir  H.  The  effect  of  a  rustic  education!  Who  could 
ever  discover  music  in  a  damp  foggy  morning,  except  those 
confounded  waits,  who  never  play  in  tune,  and  a  miserable 
wretch  who  makes  a  point  of  crying  coffee  under  my 
window  just  as  I  am  persuading  myself  to  sleep:  in  fact, 
I  never  heard  any  music  worth  listening  to,  except  in  Italy. 

Lady  G.  No?  then  you  never  heard  a  well-trained 
English  pack  in  full  cry ! 

Sir  H.     Full  cry! 

Lady  G.  Ay !  there  is  harmony,  if  you  will.  Give  me 
the  trumpet-neigh;  the  spotted  pack  just  catching  scent. 
What  a  chorus  is  their  yelp !  The  view-hallo,  blent  with  a 
peal  of  free  and  fearless  mirth !  That's  our  old  English 
music — match  it  where  you  can. 

Sir  H.  {Left  center,  aside.)  I  must  see  about  Lady 
Gay  Spanker. 

Daz.     {Left,  aside  to  Sir  Harcourt.)    Ah,  would  you — 

Lady  G.  Time  then  appears  as  young  as  love,  and 
plumes  as  swift  a  wing.  Away  we  go!  The  earth  flies 
back  to  aid  our  course  !  Horse,  man,  hound,  earth,  heaven ! 
— all — all — one  piece  of  glowing  ecstacy!  Then  I  love  the 
world  myself,  and  every  living  thing — my  jocund  soul  cries 
out  for  very  glee,  as  it  could  wish  that  all  creation  had 
but  one  mouth,  that  I  might  kiss  it !  {Goes  up,  center.) 


42  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Sir  H.     (Aside.)     I  wish  I  were  the  mouth! 

Max.     Why,  we  will  regenerate  you,  Baronet! 

Daz.  (Clapping  his  shoulder.)  Ay,  we'll  regenerate 
you!      (Sir  H.  angrily  goes  up  and  gets  around  to  right.) 

Max.  But  Gay,  where  is  your  husband?  Where  is 
Adolphus  ? 

Lady  G.  (Coming  down.)  Bless  me,  where  is  my 
Dolly? 

Sir  H.     You  are  married,  then? 

Lady  G.  I  have  a  husband  somewhere,  though  I  can't 
find  him  just  now.  (Calls.)  Dolly,  dear!  (Aside  to 
Max.)  Governor,  at  home  I  always  whistle  when  I  want 
him. 

Enter  Spanker,  r.  u.  e.;  Grace  and  Max  meet  him  and 
shake  hands. 

Spanker.     Here  I  am — did  you  call  me.  Gay? 

Sir  H.     (Eyeing  him.)     Is  that  your  husband? 

Lady  G.  (Aside.)  Yes,  bless  his  stupid  face,  that's 
my  Dolly. 

Max.  Permit  me  to  introduce  you  to  Sir  Harcourt 
Courtly. 

Span.     How  d'ye  do  ?    I — ah ! — um ! 

(Appears  frightened.) 

Lady  G.  (Gets  behind  him,  left  center.)  Delighted  to 
have  the  honor  of  making  the  acquaintance  of  a  gentleman 
so  highly  celebrated  in  the  world  of  fashion. 

Span.  Oh,  yes,  delighted,  I'm  sure — quite — very,  so 
delighted — delighted ! 

(Gets  quite  confused,  draws  on  his  glove  and  tears  it.) 

Lady  G.     Where  have  you  been,  Dolly? 

Span.     Oh,  ah,  I  was  just  outside. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  43 

Max.     Why  did  you  not  come  in  ? 

Span.  I'm  sure  I  didn't — I  don't  exactly  know,  but  I 
thought  as — perhaps — I  can't  remember. 

Daz.  Shall  we  have  the  pleasure  of  your  company  to 
dinner? 

Span.  I  always  dine — usually — that  is,  unless  Gay 
remains — 

Lady  G.  Stay  to  dinner,  of  course  ;  we  came  on  purpose 
to  stop  three  or  four  days. 

Grace.     Will  you  excuse  my  absence.  Gay? 

Max.  What!  what!  Where  are  you  going?  What 
takes  you  away? 

Grace.     We  must  postpone  the  dinner  till  Gay  is  dressed. 

Max.     Oh,  never  mind, — stay  where  you  are. 

Grace.     No.  I  must  go. 

Max.     I  say  you  shan't !    I  will  be  king  in  my  own  house. 

Grace.  Do,  my  dear  uncle  (crosses)  ;  you  shall  be  king, 
and  I'll  be  your  prime  minister, — that  is,  I'll  rule,  and  you 
shall  have  the  honor  of  taking  the  consequences. 

(Exit,  left.) 

Lady  G.  Well  said,  Grace ;  have  your  own  way,  it  is 
the  only  thing  we  women  ought  to  be  allowed. 

Max.     Come,  Gay,  dress  for  dinner. 

Sir  H.     (Right.)     Permit  me.  Lady  Gay  Spanker. 

Lady  G.  (Center.)  With  pleasure, — what  do  you 
want? 

Sir  H.     To  escort  you. 

Lady  G.  Oh,  never  mind,  I  can  escort  myself,  thank 
you,  and  Dolly  too ;  come,  dear !  (Exit,  right.) 

Sir  H.     Au  revoir ! 

Span.     Ah!   thank  you!  (Exit,  awkwardly,  right.) 

Sir  H.     What  an  ill-assorted  pair! 


44  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Max.  Not  a  bit !  She  married  him  for  freedom,  and  she 
has  it;    he  married  her  for  protection,  and  he  has  it. 

Sir  H.  How  he  ever  summoned  courage  to  propose  to 
her,  I  can't  guess. 

Max.  (Takes  his  arm.)  Bless  you,  he  never  did.  She 
proposed  to  him.  She  says  he  would  if  he  could ;  but  as 
he  couldn't,  she  did  it  for  him. 

(Exeunt  Max  and  Sir  H.,  laughing,  through  zvindow, 

right.) 

Enter  Cool  zvith  letter,  left. 

Cool.  (Left.)  Mr.  Charles,  I  have  been  watching  to 
find  you  alone.    Sir  Harcourt  has  written  to  town  for  you. 

Young  C.     The  devil  he  has ! 

Cool.     He  expects  you  down  to-morrow  evening. 

Daz.  (Center.)  Oh!  he'll  be  punctual.  A  thought 
strikes  me. 

Young  C.  Pooh !  Confound  your  thoughts !  I  can 
think  of  nothing  but  the  idea  of  leaving  Grace,  at  the  very 
moment  when  I  had  established  the  most — 

Daz.  What  if  I  can  prevent  her  marriage  with  your 
governor  ? 

Young  C.     Impossible ! 

Daz.  He's  pluming  himself  for  the  conquest  of  Lady 
Gay  Spanker.  It  will  not  be  difficult  to  make  him  believe 
she  accedes  to  his  suit.  And  if  she  would  but  join  in  the 
plan — 

Young  C.     And  do  you  think  she  would? 

Daz.     I  mistake  my  game  if  she  would  not. 

Cool.     Here  comes  Sir  Harcourt! 

Daz.  I'll  begin  with  him.  Retire,  and  watch  how  I'll 
open  the  campaign  for  you. 

(Young  Courtly  and  Cool  retire.) 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  45 

Enter  Sir  Harcourt,  by  window,  right. 

Sir  H.     Here  is  that  cursed  fellow  again. 

Daz.     Ah,  my  dear  old  friend! 

Sir  H.     Mr.  Dazzle! 

Daz.  I  have  a  secret  of  importance  to  disclose  to  you. 
Are  you  a  man  of  honor?  Hush!  don't  speak;  you  are. 
It  is  with  the  greatest  pain  I  am  compelled  to  request  you, 
as  a  gentleman,  that  you  will  shun  studiously  the  society 
of  Lady  Gay  Spanker! 

Sir  H.  Good  gracious!  and  by  what  right  do  you 
make  such  a  demand? 

Daz.     Why,  I  am  distantly  related  to  the  Spankers. 

Sir  H.  Why,  hang  it,  sir,  if  you  don't  appear  to  be 
related  to  every  family  in  Great  Britain! 

Daz.  a  good  many  of  the  nobility  claim  me  as  a  con- 
nection. But,  to  return — she  is  much  struck  with  your 
address;    evidently,  she  laid  herself  out  for  display — 

Sir  H.     Ha!    you  surprise  me! 

Daz.     To  entangle  you. 

Sir  H.     Ha !    ha !    why,  it  did  appear  like  it. 

Daz.  You  will  spare  her  for  my  sake;  give  her  no 
encouragement;  if  disgrace  come  upon  my  relatives,  the 
Spankers,  I  should  never  hold  up  my  head  again. 

Sir  H.  (Aside.)  I  shall  achieve  an  easy  conquest. 
Ha!  ha!  I  never  remarked  it  before,  but  this  is  a  gentle- 
man. 

Daz.     May  I  rely  on  your  generosity  ? 

Sir  H.  Faithfully.  (Shakes  his  hand.)  Sir,  I  honor 
and  esteem  you;  but,  might  I  ask,  how  came  you  to  meet 
our  friend.  Max  Harkaway,  in  my  house? 

Daz.     Certainly.     I  had  an  acceptance  of  your  son's  for 
one  hundred  pounds. 
5 


46  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Sir  H.     (Astonished.)     Of  my   son's?     Impossible. 

Daz.  Ah,  sir,  fact !  he  paid  a  debt  for  a  poor  unfortu- 
nate man — fifteen  children — half-a-dozen  wives — the  devil 
knows  what  all. 

Sir  H,     Simple  boy. 

Daz.  Innocent  youth,  I  have  no  doubt;  when  you  have 
the  hundred  convenient,  I  shall  feel  delighted. 

Sir  H.  Oh !  follow  me  to  my  room,  and  if  you  have  the 
document,  it  will  be  happiness  to  me  to  pay  it.  Poor 
Charles  !    good  heart ! 

Daz.     Oh,  a  splendid  heart!     I  dare  say. 

(Exit  Sir  Harcourt,  left.) 
Come  here;  bring  your  splendid  heart  here  and  write  me 
the  bill. 

Young  C.     (Right,  at  table.)     What  for? 

Daz.  What  for?  why,  to  release  the  unfortunate  man 
and  his  family,  to  be  sure,  from  jail. 

Young  C.     Who  is  he? 

Daz.     Yourself. 

Young  C.  But  I  haven't  fifteen  children!  Nor  four 
wives. 

Daz.  More  shame  for  you,  with  all  that  family.  Come, 
don't  be  obstinate;    write  and  date  it  back. 

Young  C.     Ay,  but  where  is  the  stamp? 

Daz.  Here  they  are,  of  all  patterns.  (Pulls  out  a 
pocket-book.)  I  keep  them  ready  drawn  in  case  of  neces- 
sity, all  but  the  date  and  acceptance.  Now,  if  you  are 
in  an  autographic  humor,  you  can  try  how  your  signature 
will  look  across  half-a-dozen  of  them  ; — there — write — 
exactly — you  know  the  place — across — good — and  thank 
your  lucky  stars  that  you  have  found  a  friend  at  last,  that 
gives  you  money  and  advice.     (Takes  paper.)     I'll  give  the 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  47 

old  gentleman  this,  and  then  you  can  relieve  the  necessities 
of  your  fifteen  little  unfortunates.  {Exit  left.) 

Young  C.  Things  are  approaching  to  a  climax ;  I  must 
appear  in  propria  persona — and  immediately — but  I  must 
first  ascertain  what  are  the  real  sentiments  of  this  riddle  of 
a  woman.  Does  she  love  me?  I  flatter  myself — by  Jove 
here  she  comes — I  shall  never  have  such  an  opportunity 
again!  (Retires  up,  right.) 

Enter  Grace^  left. 

Grace.  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  Mr.  Hamilton.  Why 
does  every  object  appear  robbed  of  the  charm  it  once  pre- 
sented to  me?  Why  do  I  shudder  at  the  contemplation  of 
this  marriage,  which,  till  now,  was  to  me  a  subject  of  indif- 
ference? (Crosses,  right.)  Am  I  in  love?  In  love!  if 
I  am,  my  past  life  has  been  the  work  of  raising  up  a 
pedestal  to  place  my  own  folly  on — I — the  infidel — the 
railer ! 

Young  C.  (Advancing,  left.)  Meditating  upon  matri- 
mony, madam? 

Grace.  (Aside.)  He  little  thinks  he  was  the  subject 
of  my  meditations!     (Aloud.)     No,  Mr.  Hamilton,  T — 

Grace.     (Aside.)     I  must  appear  at  ease.       (A  pause.) 

Young  C.     Eh?   ah!    um! 

Grace.  Ah!  (They  sink  into  silence  again;  aside.) 
How  very  awkward ! 

Young  C.  Madam — ahem — there  was — is — I  mean — I 
was  about  to  remark —  (Aside.)  Why,  I  have  made  love 
before  to  a  hundred  women! 

Grace.  (Aside.)  I  wish  I  had  something  to  do,  for  I 
have  nothing  to  say. 


48  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Young  C.  Madam — there  is — a  subject  so  fraught  with 
fate  to  my  future  life,  that  you  must  pardon  my  lack  of 
delicacy  should  a  too  hasty  expression  mar  the  fervent 
courtesy  of  its  intent.  (Pause.)  To  you,  I  feel  aware,  I 
must  appear  in  the  light  of  a  comparative  stranger.  Of 
you — I  know  perhaps  too  much  for  my  own  peace. 

Grace.     (Aside.)     He  is  in  love. 

Young  C.  I  forget  all  that  befell  before  I  saw  your 
beauteous  self;  I  seem  born  into  another  world — my  nature 
changed — the  beams  of  that  bright  face  falling  on  my  soul, 
have,  from  its  chaos,  warmed  into  life  the  flowrets  of  affec- 
tion, whose  maiden  odors  now  float  toward  the  sun,  pouring 
forth  on  their  pure  tongue  a  mite  of  adoration,  midst  the 
voices  of  a  universe.  (Aside.)  That's  something  in  her 
own  style. 

Grace.     Mr.  Hamilton ! 

Young  C.     You  cannot  feel  surprised — 

Grace.     I  am  more  than  surprised. 

Young  C.     Do  not  speak  so  coldly. 

Grace.     You  have  offended  me. 

Young  C.  No,  madam ;  no  woman,  whatever  her  state, 
can  be  offended  by  the  adoration  even  of  the  meanest ;  it 
is  myself  whom  I  have  offended  and  deceived — but  still  I 
ask  your  pardon. 

Grace.  (Aside.)  Oh!  he  thinks  I  am  refusing  him. 
(Aloud.)     I  am  not  exactly  offended,  but — 

Young  C.  Consider  my  position — a  few  days,  and  an 
unsurmountable  barrier  would  have  placed  you  beyond  my 
wildest  hopes — you  would  have  been  my  mother. 

(He  starts  up,  annoyed  at  having  betrayed  himself.) 

Grace.  I  should  have  been  your  mother!  (Aside.)  I 
thought  so. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  49 

Young  C.  No — that  is,  I  meant  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly's 
bride. 

Grace.     (With  great  emphasis.)     Never! 

Young  C.  How!  never!  may  I  then  hope? — you  turn 
away — you  would  not  lacerate  me  by  a  refusal? 

Grace.     (Aside.)     How  stupid  he  is! 

Young  C.  Still  silent!  I  thank  you,  Miss  Grace — I 
ought  to  have  expected  this — fool  that  I  have  been — one 
course  alone  remains — farewell ! 

Grace.     (Aside.)     Now  he's  going. 

Young  C.  Farewell  forever!  (Sits.)  Will  you  not 
speak  one  word?  I  shall  leave  this  house  immediately — I 
shall  not  see  you  again. 

Grace.     Unhand  me,  sir,  I  insist. 

Young  C.  (Aside.)  Oh!  what  an  ass  I've  been! 
(Rushes  up  to  her  and  seizes  her  hand.)  Release  this  hand? 
Never!  never!  (Kissing  it.)  Never  will  I  quit  this  hand ! 
it  shall  be  my  companion  in  misery — in  solitude — when  you 
are  far  away. 

Grace.  Oh!  should  any  one  come!  (Drops  her  hand- 
kerchief; he  stoops  to  pick  it  up.)  For  Heaven's  sake  do 
not  kneel.  Should  we  be  discovered  thus — pray,  Mr.  Ham- 
ilton— pray — pray. 

Young  C.     Pray!    I  am  praying;  what  more  can  I  do? 

Grace.     Your  conduct  is  shameful. 

Young  C.     It  is.     (Rises.) 

Grace.  And  if  I  do  not  scream,  it  is  not  for  your  sake — • 
that — but  it  might  alarm  the  family. 

Young  C.  It  might — it  would.  Say,  am  I  wholly  indif- 
ferent to  you  ?  I  entreat  one  word — I  implore  you — do  not 
withdraw  your  hand.  (She  snatches  it  away — he  puts  his 
arm  around  her  zvaist.)     You  smile. 


50  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Grace.     Leave  me,  dear  Mr.  Hamilton ! 
Young  C.     Dear !     Then  I  am  dear  to  you ;   that  word 
once  more  ;    say — say  you  love  me ! 
Grace.     Is  this  fair? 

{He  catches  her  in  his  arms  and  kisses  her.) 

Enter  Lady  Gay  Spanker,  right. 

Lad V  G.     Ha !   oh !  ( Exit  Grace,  left. ) 

Young  C.     The  devil! 

Lady  G.  Don't  mind  me — pray,  don't  let  me  be  any 
interruption ! 

Young  C.     I  was  just — 

Lady  G.  Yes,  I  see  you  were.  I  always  like  to  be  in 
at  the  death.  Never  drop  your  ears ;  bless  you,  she's  only 
a  little  fresh — give  her  her  head,  and  she  will  outrun  herself. 

Young  C.     Possibly ;  but  what  am  I  to  do  ? 

Lady  G.     Keep  your  seat. 

Young  C.  But  in  a  few  days  she  will  take  a  leap  that 
must  throw  me — she  marries  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly. 

Lady  G.  Why,  that  is  awkward,  certainly;  but  you 
can  challenge  him,  and  shoot  him. 

Young  C.     Unfortunately  that  is  out  of  the  question. 

Lady  G.     How  so? 

Young  C.     You  will  not  betray  a  secret,  if  I  inform  you? 

Lady  G.     All  right — what  is  it? 

Young  C.     I  am  his  son. 

Lady  G.     What — his  son  ?    But  he  does  not  know  you  ? 

Young  C.  No;  I  met  him  here  by  chance,  and  faced 
it  out,  I  never  saw  him  before  in  my  life. 

Lady  G.  Beautiful!  I  see  it  all — you're  in  love  with 
your  mother  that  should  be — your  wife,  that  will  be. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  51 

Young  C.  Now,  I  think  I  could  distance  the  old  gentle- 
man, if  you  will  but  lend  us  your  assistance. 

Lady  G.     I  will,  in  anything. 

Young  C.  You  must  know,  then,  that  my  father,  Sir 
Harcourt,  has  fallen  desperately  in  love  with  you. 

Lady  G.  With  me!  (Utters  a  scream  of  delight.) 
That  is  delicious ! 

Young  C.     Now,  if  you  only  could — 

Lady  G.  Could ! — I  will !  Ha !  ha !  I  see  my  cue.  I'll 
cross  his  scent — I'll  draw  him  after  me.  Ho !  ho !  won't 
I  make  love  to  him  ?    Ha ! 

Young  C.  The  only  objection  might  be  Mr.  Spanker, 
who  might — 

Lady  G.  No,  he  mightn't;  he  has  no  objection.  Bless 
him — you  don't  know  him  as  well  as  I  do.  I  dare  say — ha ! 
ha!  (Dinner  bell  rings.)  Here  they  come  to  dinner.  I'll 
commence  my  operations  on  your  governor  immediately. 
Ha!   ha!   how  I  shall  enjoy  it. 

Young  C.     Be  guarded! 

Enter  Max  Harkaway,  right;    Sir  Harcourt,  left; 
Dazzle^  right;    Grace  and  Spanker,  left. 

Max.  Now,  gentlemen — Sir  Harcourt,  do  you  lead 
Grace. 

Lady  G.     I  believe  Sir  Harcourt  is  engaged  to  me. 

(Takes  his  arm.) 
Max.     Well,  please  yourselves. 

They  file  out,  left.  Max  first,  Young  Courtly  and  Grace 
Sir  Harcourt  coquetting  with  Lady  Gay,  leaving  Dazzle, 
who  offers  his  arm  to  Spanker,  and  walks  on.  Spanker 
runs  after  him,  trying  to  take  it. 

End  of  Act  Third. 


ACT    FOURTH 

Scene — Same  as  Act  Third.  Grace  and  Lady  Gay, 
discovered  drinking  coffee. 

Grace.  (On  ottoman,  center.)  If  there  be  one  habit 
more  abominable  than  another,  it  is  that  of  the  gentlemen 
sitting  over  their  wine;  it  is  a  selfish,  unfeeling  fashion, 
and  a  gross  insult  to  our  sex. 

Lady  G.  (Right.)  We  are  turned  out  just  when  the 
fun  begins.  How  happy  the  poor  wretches  look  at  the  con- 
templation of  being  rid  of  us. 

Grace.  The  conventional  signal  for  the  ladies  to  with- 
draw is  anxiously  and  deliberately  waited  for. 

Lady  G.     Then  I  begin  to  wish  I  were  a  man. 

Grace.  The  instant  the  door  is  closed  upon  us,  there 
rises  a  roar! 

Lady  G.  In  celebration  of  their  short-lived  liberty,  my 
love;   rejoicing  over  their  emancipation. 

Grace.     I  think  it  very  insulting,  whatever  it  may  be. 

Lady  G.  Ah !  my  dear,  philosophers  say  that  man  is 
the  creature  of  an  hour — it  is  the  dinner  hour,  I  suppose. 

Daz.  (Without.)  A  song,  a  song!  (Voices  as  if  in 
approval  of  the  proposition,  knocking  on  table,  etc. 
"Bravo !"  at  back.  Enter  Servant,  left,  to  take  coffee  cups 
from  Lady  Gay  and  Grace.) 

Grace.  I  am  afraid  they  are  getting  too  pleasant  to  be 
agreeable. 


H.  Obekxauer.  1910, 
as  3fax  Harkaivay. 


LONDON    ASSUIL\NCE.  $3 

Lady  G.  I  hope  the  squire  will  restrict  himself ;  after 
his  third  bottle  he  becomes  rather  voluminous.  (Cries  of 
"Silence.")  Some  one  is  going  to  sing.  {Jumps  up.)  Let 
us  hear!  (Spanker  is  heard  to  sitig  "A  Southerly  Wind 
and  a  Cloudy  Sky";  after  verse,  chorus.) 

Grace.     Oh,  no,  Gay,  for  Heaven's  sake! 

Lady  G.  Oho!  ha!  ha!  why  that  is  my  Dolly.  (At 
the  conclusion  of  the  verse. )  Well,  I  never  heard  my  Dolly 
sing  before!     Happy  wretches,  how  I  envy  them! 

Enter  James,  left,  with  a  note. 

James.  Mr.  Hamilton  has  just  left  the  house  for 
London. 

Grace.     Impossible ! — that  is,  without  seeing — that  is — 

Lady  G.     Ha!   ha! 

Grace.     He  never — speak,  sir! 

James.  He  left,  Miss  Grace,  in  a  desperate  hurry,  and 
this  note,  I  believe,  for  you.     (Presenting  a  note  on  salver.) 

Grace.  For  me!  (About  to  snatch  it,  but  restraining 
herself,  takes  it  coolly.)  (Exit  James,  left.) 

Excuse  me,  Gay.  (Reads.)  ''Your  manner  during  dinner 
has  left  me  no  alternative  but  instant  departure  ;  my  absence 
will  release  you  from  the  oppression  which  my  society  must 
necessarily  inflict  on  your  sensitive  mind.  Dare  I  supplicate 
pardon  and  oblivion  for  the  past?  It  is  the  last  request 
of  the  self-deceived,  but  still  loving  Augustus  Hamilton." 
(Puts  her  hand  to  her  forehead  and  appears  giddy.) 

Lady  G.     Hallo,  Grace  !     Pull  up ;   what's  the  matter  ? 

Grace.  (Recovering  herself.)  Nothing — the  heat  of 
the  room. 

Lady  G.  Oh!  what  excuse  does  he  make?  particular 
unforeseen  business,  I  suppose? 


54  LONDON    ASSUR.\NCE. 

Grace.  Why,  yes — a  mere  formula — a — a — you  may 
put  it  in  the  fire.  (Puts  it  in  her  bosom.) 

Lady  G.  {Aside.)  It  is  near  enough  to  the  fire  where 
it  is. 

Grace.     {Center.)     I'm  glad  he's  gone. 

Lady  G.     {Right.)     So  am  I. 

Grace.     He  was  a  disagreeable,  ignorant  person. 

Lady  G.     Yes ;   and  so  vulgar, 

Grace.     No,  he  was  not  at  all  vulgar. 

Lady  G.     I  mean  in  appearance. 

Grace.     Oh !  how  can  you  say  so  ?  he  was  very  distingue. 

Lady  G.  Well,  I  might  have  been  mistaken,  but  I  took 
him  for  a  forward,  intrusive — 

Grace.  Good  gracious.  Gay !  he  was  very  retiring — 
even  shy. 

Lady  G.  {Aside.)  It's  all  right.  She  is  in  love, — 
blows  hot  and  cold  in  the  same  breath. 

Grace.  How  can  you  be  a  competent  judge?  Why,  you 
have  not  known  him  more  than  a  few  hours, — while  I — I — 

Lady  G.  Have  known  him  two  days  and  a  quarter !  I 
yield — I  confess,  I  never  was,  or  will  be  so  intimate  with 
him  as  you  appeared  to  be  !    Ha !   ha ! 

{Loud  noise  of  argument ;  the  folding-doors  are  thrown 
open.) 

Enter  the  whole  party  of  Gentlemen^  apparently 
engaged  in  warm  discussion.  They  assemble  in  knots,  while 
the  Servants  hand  coffee,  etc.  Max,  Sir  Harcourt, 
Dazzle,  and  Spanker,  together. 

Daz.  {Left.)  But,  my  dear  sir,  consider  the  state  of 
the  two  countries,  under  such  a  constitution. 

Sir  H.  {Left  center.)  The  two  countries!  What  have 
they  to  do  with  the  subject? 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  55 

Max.  {Left  center.)  Everything.  Look  at  their  two 
legislative  bodies. 

Span.     {Center.)      Ay,    look    at    their    two    legislative 

bodies. 

Sir  H.  Why,  it  would  inevitably  establish  universal 
anarchy  and  confusion. 

Grace.  {Right  center.)  I  think  they  are  pretty  well 
established  already. 

Span.  Well,  suppose  it  did,  what  has  anarchy  and  con- 
fusion to  do  with  the  subject? 

Lady  G.  {Right  center.)  Do  look  at  my  Dolly:  he  is 
arguing — talking  politics — 'pon  my  life  he  is.  {Calling.) 
Mr.  Spanker,  my  dear! 

Span.  Excuse  me,  love,  I  am  discussing  a  point  of 
importance. 

Lady  G.  Oh,  that  is  delicious ;  he  must  discuss  that  to 
me.  {She  goes  up  and  leads  him  down;  he  appears  to  have 
shaken  off  his  gaucherie;  she  shakes  her  head.)  Dolly! 
Dolly! 

Span.  Pardon  me.  Lady  Gay  Spanker,  I  conceive  your 
mutilation  of  my  sponsorial  appellation  highly  derogatory — 
to  my  amour  propre. 

Lady  G.     Your  what  ?    Ho !   ho ! 

Span.  And  I  particularly  request  that,  for  the  future, 
I  may  not  be  treated  with  that  cavalier  spirit  which  does 
not  become  your  sex  nor  your  station,  your  ladyship. 

Lady  G.  You  have  been  indulging  till  you  have  lost  the 
little  wit  dribbled  into  your  unfortunate  little  head — your 
brains  want  the  whipper-in — you  are  not  yourself. 

Span.  Madam,  I  am  doubly  myself ;  and  permit  me  to 
inform  you,  that  unless  you  voluntarily  pay  obedience  to 
my  commands,  I  shall  enforce  them. 


56  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Lady  G.     Your  commands ! 

Span.  Yes,  madam;  I  mean  to  put  a  full  stop  to  your 
hunting. 

Lady  G.  You  do!  ah!  (Aside.)  I  can  scarcely  speak 
from  delight.  (Aloud.)  Who  put  such  an  idea  into  your 
head,  for  I  am  sure  it  is  not  an  original  emanation  of  your 


genms , 


Span.  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly,  my  friend ;  and  now,  mark 
me !  I  request,  for  your  own  sake,  that  I  may  not  be  com- 
pelled to  assert  my  a — my  authority,  as  your  husband.  I 
shall  say  no  more  than  this — if  you  persist  in  your  absurd 
rebellion — 

Lady  G.     Well? 

Span.     Contemplate  a  separation. 

(Looks  at  her  haughtily  and  retires,  center.) 

Lady  G.  Now  I'm  happy !  My  own  little  darling,  ines- 
timable Dolly,  has  tumbled  into  a  spirit,  somehow.  Sir 
Harcourt,  too !  Ha !  ha !  he's  trying  to  make  him  ill-treat 
me,  so  that  his  own  suit  may  thrive. 

Sir  H.     (Left,  advances.)     Lady  Gay! 

Lady  G.     (Aside.)     Now  for  it. 

(They  sit  on  ottoman,  center.) 

Sir  H.  What  hours  of  misery  were  those  I  passed  when, 
by  your  secession,  the  room  suffered  a  total  eclipse. 

Lady  G.     Ah !   you  flatter. 

Sir  H.  No,  pardon  me,  that  were  impossible.  No, 
believe  me,  I  tried  to  join  in  the  boisterous  mirth,  but  my 
thoughts  would  desert  to  the  drawing-room.  Ah!  how  I 
envied  the  careless  levity  and  cool  indifference  with  which 
Mr.  Spanker  enjoyed  your  absence. 

Daz.  (Who  is  lounging  in  a  chair,  right.)  Max,  that 
Madeira  is  worth  its  weight  in  gold ;  I  hope  you  have  more 
of  it. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  57 

Max.  {Right,  talking  with  Grace  and  Spanker.)  A 
pipe,  I  think. 

Daz.  I  consider  a  magnum  of  that  nectar,  and  a  meer- 
schaum of  kanaster,  the  ultimatum  of  all  mundane  bliss. 

Enter  James,  left. 

James.     Mr.  Charles  Courtly!  {Exit,  left.) 

Sir  H.  Ah  now,  Max,  you  must  see  a  living  apology 
for  my  conduct. 

Enter  Young  Courtly,  dressed  very  plainly,  left. 

Well,  Charles,  how  are  you  ?  Don't  be  afraid.  There,  Max, 
what  do  you  say  now? 

Max.  (Right  center.)  Well,  this  is  the  most  extra- 
ordinary likeness. 

Grace.  {Right,  aside.)  Yes — considering  it  is  the 
original.     I  am  not  so  easily  deceived ! 

Max.  {Crosses  left  center  and  shakes  hands.)  Sir,  I 
am  delighted  to  see  you. 

Young  C.     Thank  you,  sir. 

Daz.  {Right.)  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  introduce 
me.  Sir  Harcourt? 

Sir  H.     This  is  Mr.  Dazzle,  Charles. 

Young  C.  Which?  {Looking  from  Spanker,  right 
center,  to  Dazzle,  right.  Dazzle  crosses  right  center, 
nearly  tumbling  over  Spanker,  who  goes  up.  Charles 
winks  at  Dazzle.) 

Sir  H.  (To  Lady  Gay.)  Is  not  that  refreshing?  Miss 
Harkaway — Charles,  this  is  your  mother,  or  rather  will  be. 

Young  C.  Madam,  I  shall  love,  honor,  and  obey  you 
punctually.    {Takes  out  a  hook,  sighs,  and  goes  up,  reading.) 


58  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Etiter  James,  left. 

Sir  H.  You  perceive?  Quite  unused  to  society — per- 
fectly ignorant  of  every  conventional  rule  of  life. 

James.     The  doctor  and  the  young-  ladies  have  arrived. 

(Exit,  left.) 

Max.  The  young  ladies — now  we  must  go  to  the  hall — I 
make  it  a  rule  always  to  commence  the  festivities  with  a 
good  old  country  dance — a  rattling  Sir  Roger  de  Coverly; 
come,  Sir  Harcourt. 

Sir  H.     Does  this  antiquity  require  a  war-whoop  in  it? 

Max.  (Center.)  Nothing  but  a  nimble  foot  and  a  light 
heart. 

Sir  H.  Lady  Gay  Spanker,  will  you  honor  me  by  becom- 
ing my  preceptor? 

Lady  G.  Why,  I  am  engaged — but  (aloud)  on  such  a 
plea  as  Sir  Harcourt's,  I  must  waive  all  obstacles. 

(Gives  her  hand.) 

Max.     Now,  Grace,  girl — give  your  hand  to  Mr.  Courtly. 

Grace.  (Sitting,  center.)  Pray,  excuse  me,  uncle — I 
have  a  headache. 

Sir  H.  (Aside  left  center,  leading  Lady  Gay.)  Jeal- 
ousy! by  the  gods.  Jealous  of  my  devotions  at  another's 
fane!  (Aloud.)  Charles,  my  boy  !  amuse  Miss  Grace  dur- 
ing our  absence.  (Exit  zvith  Lady  Gay,  left.) 

Max.     (Left.)     But  don't  you  dance,  Mr.  Courtly? 

Young  C.  (Right.)  Dance,  sir! — I  never  dance — lean 
procure  exercise  in  a  much  more  rational  manner — and 
music  disturbs  my  meditations. 

Max.     Well,  do  the  gallant. 

(Exit  left,  with  Spanker  and  Dazzle.) 

Young  C.  I  never  studied  that  art — but  I  have  a  Prize 
Essay  on  a  hydrostatic  subject,  which  would  delight  her — 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  59 

for  it  enchanted  the  Reverend  Doctor  Pump,  of  Corpus 
Christi. 

Grace.  (Aside.)  What  on  earth  could  have  induced 
him  to  disfigure  himself  in  that  frightful  way ! — I  rather 
suspect  some  plot  to  entrap  me  into  a  confession. 

Young  C.  (Aside.)  Dare  I  confess  this  trick  to  her? 
No!  Not  until  I  have  proved  her  affection  indisputably. 
Let  me  see.  (Takes  a  chair,  and  forgetting  his  assumed 
character,  is  about  to  take  his  natural  free  manner.  Grace 
looks  surprised.  He  turns  abashed.)  Madam,  I  have  been 
desired  to  amuse  you. 

Grace.     Thank  you. 

Young  C.  "The  labor  we  delight  in,  physics  pain."  I 
will  draw  you  a  moral,  ahem!  Subject,  the  effects  of 
inebriety — which  according  to  Ben  Jonson  means  perplex- 
ion  of  the  intellects,  caused  by  imbibing  spirituous  liquors. 
About  an  hour  before  my  arrival,  I  passed  an  appalling 
evidence  of  the  effects  of  this  state — a  carriage  was  over- 
thrown— horses  killed — gentleman  in  a  hopeless  state,  with 
his  neck  broken — all  occasioned  by  the  intoxication  of  the 
post-boy. 

Grace.     That  is  very  amusing. 

Young  C.  I  found  it  edifying — nutritious  food  for 
reflection — the  expiring  man  desired  his  best  compliments 
to  you. 

Grace.     To  me?  (She  rises.) 

Young  C.     Yes. 

Grace.     His  name  was — 

Young  C.     Mr.  Augustus  Hamilton. 

Grace.     Augustus !     Oh ! 

(Affects  to  faint,  sinking  on  the  ottoman.) 

Young  C.     (Aside.)     Huzza!     She  loves  me! 


6o  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Grace.     But  where,  sir,  did  this  happen? 
Young  C.     About  four  miles  down  the  road. 
Grace.     He  must  be  conveyed  here. 

Enter  James,  left. 

James.     Mr.  Meddle,  madam.  (Exit,  left.) 

Enter  Meddle,  left. 

Med.     On  very  particular  business. 

Grace.     The  very  person.     My  dear  sir ! 

Med.     {Left.)     My  dear  madam! 

Grace.  {Center.)  You  must  execute  a  very  particular 
commission  for  me  immediately.  Mr.  Hamilton  has  met 
with  a  frightful  accident  on  the  London  road,  and  is  in  a 
dying  state. 

IMed.  Well !  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying,  he  takes  it 
uncommonly  easy — he  looks  as  if  he  was  used  to  it. 

Grace.  You  mistake  ;  that  is  not  Mr.  Hamilton,  but  Mr. 
Courtly,  who  will  explain  everything,  and  conduct  you  to 
the  spot. 

Young  C.  Madam,  that  were  useless,  for  I  omitted  to 
mention  a  small  fact  which  occurred  before  I  left  Mr. 
Hamilton — he  died. 

Grace.  Dear  me !  Oh,  then  we  needn't  trouble  you,  Mr. 
Meddle.  {Music  heard  without,  left.)  Hark!  I  hear  they 
are  commencing  a  waltz — if  you  will  ask  me — perhaps  a 
turn  or  two  in  the  dance  may  tend  to  dispel  the  dreadful 
sensations  you  have  aroused. 

Young  C.  {Aside.)  If  I  can  understand  her,  hang  me! 
Hears  of  my  death — screams  out — and  then  asks  me  to 
waltz!  Confound  this  disguise — I  must  retain  it — I  have 
gone  too  far  with  my  dad  to  pull  up  now.  {Aloud.)  At 
your  service,  madam. 

{He  crosses  behind  to  left  and  offers  his  hand.) 


VV.  C.  Bullitt,  Jr.,  1912,  W.  DeF.  Manice,  1911,  A.  Al.  Hartwell,  1911, 
as  Lady  Gay  Spanker.        as  Charles  Courtly.       as  Grace  Harkaway. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  6 1 

Grace.  (Aside.)  I  will  pay  him  well  for  this  trick! 
(Aloud.)     Ah,  poor  Augustus  Hamilton! 

(Exeunt,  left,  all  but  Meddle.) 

Med.  Well,  if  that  is  not  Mr.  Hamilton,  scratch  me  out 
with  a  big  blade,  for  I  am  a  blot.  There  is  an  error  in 
the  pleadings  somewhere,  and  I  will  discover  it.  I  would 
swear  to  his  identity  before  the  most  discriminating  jury. 
By  the  bye,  this  accident  will  form  a  capital  excuse  for  my 
presence  here.  I  just  stepped  in  to  see  how  matters  worked, 
and — stay — here  comes  the  bridegroom  elect — and,  oh  !  in 
his  very  arms,  Lady  Gay  Spanker!  (Looks  round.) 
Where  are  my  witnesses?  Oh,  that  some  one  else  were 
here !  However  I  can  retire  and  get  some  information,  eh — 
Spanker  versus  Courtly — damages — witness. 

(Gets  into  an  arm-chair,  which  he  turns  round,  back  to 
the  audience.) 
Enter  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly,  supporting  Lady  Gay,  left. 

Sir  H.     This  cool  room  will  recover  you. 

Lady  G.     Excuse  my  trusting  to  you  for  support. 

Sir  H.  I  am  transported!  Allow  me  thus  ever  to  sup- 
port this  lovely  burden,  and  I  shall  conceive  that  paradise 
is  regained.  (They  sit.) 

Lady  G.     Oh !    Sir  Harcourt,  I  feel  very  faint. 

Sir  H.     The  waltz  made  you  giddy. 

Lady  G.     And  I  have  left  my  salts  in  the  other  room. 

Sir  H.  I  always  carry  a  flacon,  for  the  express  accom- 
modation of  the  fair  sex. 

(Producing  a  smelling-bottle  and  sitting  right  of  her.) 

Lady  G.     Thank  you — ah!  (She  sighs.) 

Sir  H.     What  a  sigh  was  there ! 

Lady  G.     The  vapor  of  consuming  grief. 

Sir  H.     Is  it  possible!    Are  you  unhappy?    Dear  me! 
6 


62  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Lady  G.     Am  I  not  married  ? 

Sir  H.     What  a  horrible  state  of  existence. 

Lady  G.  I  am  never  contradicted,  so  there  are  none  of 
those  enlivening,  interesting  little  differences,  which  so 
pleasingly  diversify  the  monotony  of  conjugal  life,  like  spots 
of  verdure — no  quarrels,  like  oases  in  the  desert  of  matri- 
mony— no  rows. 

Sir  H.     How  vulgar !    what  a  brute ! 

Lady  G.  I  never  have  anything  but  my  own  way ;  and 
he  won't  permit  me  to  spend  more  than  I  like. 

Sir  H.     Mean-spirited  wretch ! 

Lady  G.     How  can  I  help  being  miserable? 

Sir  H.  Miserable !  I  wonder  you  are  not  in  a  lunatic 
asylum,   with  such  unheard  of  barbarism ! 

Lady  G.     But  worse  than  all  that! 

Sir  H.     Can  it  be  out-Heroded  ? 

Lady  G.  Yes,  I  could  forgive  that — I  do — it  is  my  duty. 
But  only  imagine — picture  to  yourself,  my  dear  Sir  Har- 
court,  though  I,  the  third  daughter  of  an  Earl,  married  him 
out  of  pity  for  his  destitute  and  helpless  situation  as  a 
bachelor  with  ten  thousand  a  year — conceive,  if  you  can — 
he  actually  permits  me,  with  the  most  placid  indifference, 
to  flirt  with  any  old  fool  I  may  meet. 

Sir  H.     Good  gracious  !   miserable  idiot ! 

Lady  G.  I  fear  there  is  an  incompatibility  of  temper, 
which  renders  a  separation  inevitable. 

Sir  H.  Indispensable,  my  dear  madam!  Had  another 
man  but  looked  at  you,  I  should  have  annihilated  him  at 
once;  and  if  he  had  the  temerity  to  speak,  his  life  alone 
could  have  expiated  his  crime. 

Lady  G.  Oh,  an  existence  of  such  a  nature  is  too  bright 
for  the  eye  of  thought — too  sweet  to  bear  reflection. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  63 

Sir  H.     My  devotion,  eternal,  deep — 

Lady  G.     Oh,  Sir  Harcourt! 

Sir  H.  {More  fervently.)  Your  every  thought  should 
be  a  separate  study — each  wish  forestalled  by  the  quick 
apprehension  of  a  kindred  soul. 

Lady  G.     Alas !   how  can  I  avoid  my  fate  ? 

Sir  H.  If  a  life — a  heart — were  offered  to  your  aston- 
ished view  by  one  who  is  considered  the  index  of  fashion — 
the  vane  of  the  hcau  inonde — if  you  saw  him  at  your  feet 
begging,  beseeching  your  acceptance  of  all,  and  more  than 
this,  what  would  your  answer — 

Lady  G.     Ah !   I  know  of  none  so  devoted ! 

Sir  H.  You  do!  (Throiving  himself  upon  his  knees.) 
Behold  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly! 

(Meddle  jumps  up  into  the  chair  and  writes  in  his  memo- 
randum book.) 

Lady  G.  (Aside.)  Ha!  ha!  Yoicks !  Puss  has 
broken  cover.  (Meddle  sits  again.) 

Sir  H.  Speak,  adored,  dearest  Lady  Gay ! — speak — will 
you  fly  from  the  tyranny  of  such  a  monster's  roof,  and 
accept  the  soul  which  lives  but  in  your  presence ! 

Lady  G.  Do  not  press  me.  Oh,  spare  a  weak,  yielding 
woman — be  contented  to  know  that  you  are,  alas!  too 
dear  to  me.     But  the  world — the  world  would  say — 

Sir  H.  Let  us  be  a  precedent  to  open  a  more  extended 
and  liberal  view  of  matrimonial  advantages  to  society. 

Lady  G.  How  irresistible  is  your  argument!  Oh! 
pause!  (They  put  their  chairs  back.) 

Sir  H.  I  have  ascertained  for  a  fact,  that  every  trades- 
man of  mine  lives  with  his  wife,  and  thus  you  see  it  has 
become  a  vulgar  and  plebian  custom. 


64  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Lady  G.  Leave  me ;  I  feel  I  cannot  withstand  your 
powers  of  persuasion.  Swear  that  you  will  never  forsake 
me. 

Sir  H.  Dictate  the  oath.  May  I  grow  wrinkled — 
may  two  inches  be  added  to  the  circumference  of  my  waist 
— may  I  lose  the  fall  in  my  back — may  I  be  old  and  ugly 
the  instant  I  forego  one  tithe  of  adoration. 

Lady  G.     I  must  believe  you. 

Sir  H.  Shall  we  leave  this  detestable  spot — this  horrible 
vicinity  ? 

Lady  G.  The  sooner  the  better ;  to-morrow  evening  let 
it  be.  Now  let  me  return ;  my  absence  will  be  remarked. 
{He  kisses  her  hand.)  Do  I  appear  confused?  Has  my 
agitation  rendered  me  unfit  to  enter  the  room? 

Sir  H.  More  angelic  by  a  lovely  tinge  of  heightened 
color. 

Lady  G.  To-morrow,  in  this  room,  which  opens  on  the 
lawn. 

Sir  H.     At  eleven  o'clock. 

Lady  G.  The  rest  of  the  family  will  be  at  supper ;  I'll 
plead  indisposition.  Have  your  carriage  in  waiting,  and 
four  horses.  Remember,  please  be  particular  to  have  four ; 
don't  let  the  affair  come  off  shabbily.  Adieu,  dear  Sir 
Harcourt!  (Exit,  right.) 

Sir  H.  (Marches  pompously  across  the  stage.)  Veni, 
vidi,  vici !  Hannibal,  Caesar,  Napoleon,  Alexander  never 
completed  so  fair  a  conquest.  Poor  creature  !  how  she  loves 
me !  I  pity  so  prostrating  a  passion,  and  ought  to  return 
it.    I  will ;   it  is  a  duty  I  owe  to  society  and  fashion. 

(Exit,  left.) 

Med.  (Tunis  the  chair  round.)  "There  is  a  tide  in  the 
affairs    of    men    which,    taken    at    the    flood,    leads    on    to 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  65 

fortune."  This  is  my  tide — I  am  the  only  witness.  "Virtue 
is  sure  to  find  its  own  reward."  But  I've  no  time  to  con- 
template what  it  shall  be — something  huge.  Let  me  see — 
Spanker  versus  Courtly — Crim.  Con.  Damages  placed  at 
£150,000  at  least,  for  juries  always  decimate  your  hopes. 

Enter  Spanker,  left. 

Span.     I  cannot  find  Gay  anywhere. 

Med.  The  plaintiff  himself — I  must  commence  the 
action.  Mr.  Spanker,  as  I  have  information  of  deep  and 
vital  importance  to  impart,  will  you  take  a  seat?  (They  sit 
solemnly.  Meddle  takes  out  a  note-book  and  pencil.) 
Ahem!     You  have  a  wife? 

Reenter  Lady  Gay,  right.    She  crosses  behind  to  left  door, 

and  listens. 

Span.     {Left  center.)     Yes,  I  believe  I — 

Med.  (Right  center.)  Will  you  be  kind  enough,  with- 
out any  prevarication,  to  answer  my  questions  ? — You  have 
a  wife? 

Span.     You  alarm — I — 

Med.  Compose  yourself  and  reserve  your  feelings  ;  take 
time  to  consider.    You  have  a  wife? 

Span.     Yes — 

Med.  He  has  a  wife — good — a  bona  fide  wife — bound 
morally  and  legally  to  be  your  wife,  and  nobody  else's  in 
effect,   except  on  your  written  permission — 

Span.     But  what  has  this — 

Med.     Hush !  allow  me,  my  dear  sir,  to  congratulate  you. 

(Shakes  his  hand.) 

Span.     What  for? 


66  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Med.  Lady  Gay  Spanker  is  about  to  dishonor  the  bond 
of  wedlock  by  eloping  from  you. 

Span.     (Starting.)     What? 

]\Ied.  (Pushing  him  down  again.)  I  thought  you  would 
be  overjoyed.  Place  the  affair  in  my  hands,  and  I  will 
venture  to  promise  the  largest  damages  on  record. 

Span.  (Starts  up.)  Damn  the  damages! — I  want  my 
wife.  Oh,  I'll  go  and  ask  her  not  to  run  away.  She  may 
run  away  with  me — she  may  hunt — she  may  ride — any- 
thing she  likes.    Oh,  sir,  let  us  put  a  stop  to  this  affair. 

Med.  (Who  has  put  the  chairs  back.)  Put  a  stop  to  it! 
do  not  alarm  me,  sir.  Sir,  you  will  spoil  the  most  exquisite 
brief  that  was  ever  penned.  It  must  proceed — it  shall  pro- 
ceed. It  is  illegal  to  prevent  it,  and  I  will  bring  an  action 
against  you  for  wilful  intent  to  injure  the  profession. 

Span.  Oh,  what  an  ass  I  am !  Oh,  I  have  driven  her 
to  this.  It  was  all  that  cursed  brandy  punch  on  the  top 
of  Burgundy.     What  a  fool  I  was  ! 

Med.     It  was  the  happiest  moment  of  your  life. 

Span.  So  I  thought  at  the  time ;  but  we  live  to  grow 
wiser.     Tell  me,  who  is  the  vile  seducer? 

Med.     Sir  Harcourt  Courtly. 

Span.     Ha!    he  is  my  best  friend. 

Med.  I  should  think  he  is.  If  you  will  accompany  me — 
here  is  a  verbatim  copy  of  the  whole  transaction  in  short- 
hand— sworn  to  by  me. 

Span.     Only  let  me  have  Gay  back  again. 

Med.     Even  that  may  be  arranged — this  way. 

Span.  That  ever  I  should  live  to  see  my  wife  run  away. 
Oh,  I  will  do  anything — keep  two  packs  of  hounds — buy 
up  every  horse  and  ass  in  England — myself  included — oh ! 

(Exeunt  Spanker  and  Meddle,  right.) 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  67 

Lady  G.  Ha !  ha !  ha !  Poor  Dolly !  I'm  sorry  I  must 
continue  to  deceive  him.  If  he  would  but  kindle  up  a  little. 
So,  that  fellow  overheard  all — well,  so  much  the  better. 

Enter  Young  Courtly,  left. 

Young  C.  My  dear  madam,  how  fares  the  plot?  does 
my  governor  nibble. 

Lady  G.  Nibble !  he  is  caught  and  in  the  basket.  I 
have  just  left  him  with  a  hook  in  his  gills,  panting  for  very 
lack  of  element.     But  how  goes  on  your  encounter? 

Young  C.  Bravely.  By  a  simple  ruse,  I  have  dis- 
covered that  she  loves  me.  I  see  but  one  chance  against 
the  best  termination  I  could  hope. 

Lady  G.     What  is  it? 

Young  C.  My  father  has  told  me  that  I  return  to  town 
again  to-morrow  afternoon. 

Lady  G.  Well,  I  insist  you  stop  and  dine — keep  out  of 
the  way. 

Young  C.  Oh,  but  what  excuse  shall  I  offer  for  dis- 
obedience ?    What  can  I  say  when  he  sees  me  before  dinner  ? 

Lady  G.     Say — say  Grace. 

Enter  Grace,,  left,  and  gets  behind  the  windozv  curtains, 

right  center. 

Young  C.     Ha!   ha! 

Lady  G.  I  have  arranged  to  elope  with  Sir  Harcourt 
myself  to-morrow  night. 

Young  C.     The  deuce  you  have ! 

Lady  G.  Now  if  you  could  persuade  Grace  to  follow 
that  example — his  carriage  will  be  in  waiting  at  the  Park — 
be  there  a  little  before  eleven,  and  it  will  just  prevent  our 
escape.     Can  you  make  her  agree  to  that? 


68  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Young  C.     Oh,  without  the   slightest  difficulty,  if  Mr. 
Augustus  Hamilton  supplicates. 

Lady  G.     Success  attend  you.  (Going,  right.) 

Young  C.     I  will  bend  the  haughty  Grace.  (Going,  left.) 
Lady  G.     Do.  (Exeunt  severally.) 

Grace.     (Right  center,  at  hack.)     Will  you? 

End  of  Act  Fourth. 


ACT  FIFTH. 

Scene — The  same. 

Enter  Cool,  left. 

Cool.  This  is  the  most  serious  affair  Sir  Harcourt  has 
ever  been  engaged  in.  I  took  the  Hberty  of  considering 
him  a  fool  when  he  told  me  he  was  going  to  marry;  but 
voluntarily  to  incur  another  man's  incumbrance  is  very  little 
short  of  madness.  If  he  continues  to  conduct  himself  in 
this  absurd  manner,  I  shall  be  compelled  to  dismiss  him. 

Enter  Sir  Harcourt,  right,  equipped  for  travelling. 

Sir  H.     Cool! 

Cool.     Sir  Harcourt. 

Sir  H.     Is  my  chariot  in  waiting? 

Cool.  For  the  last  half  hour  at  the  park  wicket.  But, 
pardon  the  insinuation,  sir ;  would  it  not  be  more  advisable 
to  hesitate  for  a  short  reflection  before  you  undertake  the 
heavy  responsibility  of  a  woman? 

Sir  H.  No ;  hesitation  destroys  the  romance  of  a  faux 
pas. 

Cool.     What  is  to  be  done  with  Mr.  Charles  ? 

Sir.  You,  Cool,  must  return  him  to  college.  Pass 
through  London,  and  deliver  these  papers ;  here  is  a  small 
notice  of  the  coming  elopement  for  the  morning  Post ;  this, 
by  an  eye-witness,  for  the  Herald;  this,  with  all  the  parti- 
culars, for  the  Chronicle ;    and  the  full  and  circumstantial 


7°  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

account  for  the  evening  journals — after  which,  meet  us  at 

Boulogne. 

Cool.     \''ery  good,  Sir  Harcourt.  (Going,  left.) 

Sir  H.     Lose  no  time.    Remember — Hotel  Anglais,  Bou- 

logne-sur-Mer. 

Cool.     It  shall  be  done.  (Exit,  left.) 

Sir  H.     With  what  indifference  does  a  man  of  the  world 

view  the  approach  of  the  most  perilous  catastrophe ! 

Enter  Lady  Gay,  right. 

Lady  G.     Sir  Harcourt ! 

Sir  H.     At  your  feet. 

Lady  G.     I  had  hoped  you  would  have  repented. 

Sir  H.     Repented! 

Lady  G.  Have  you  not  come  to  say  it  was  a  jest? — say 
you  have ! 

Sir  H.  Love  is  too  sacred  a  subject  to  be  trifled  with. 
Come,  let  us  fly !     See,  I  have  procured  disguises — 

Lady  G.     My  courage  begins  to  fail  me.    Let  me  return. 

Sir  H.     Impossible ! 

Lady  G.     Where  do  you  intend  to  take  me  ? 

Sir  H.     You  shall  be  my  guide.     The  carriage  waits. 

Lady  G.     You  will  never  desert  me  ? 

Sir  H.  Desert !  Oh,  Heavens !  Come,  every  moment 
is  laden  with  danger.  (They  are  going,  right.) 

Lady  G.     Oh  !    gracious  ! 

Sir  H.     Hush!    what  is  it? 

Lady  G.     I  have  forgotten — I  must  return. 

Sir  H.     Impossible ! 

Lady  G.  I  must !  I  must !  I  have  left  Max — a  pet 
staghound,  in  his  basket — without  whom  life  would  be 
unendurable — I  could  not  exist ! 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  7  I 

Sir  H.     No,  no.    Let  him  be  sent  after  us  in  a  hamper. 

Lady  G.  In  a  hamper !  Remorseless  man  !  Go — you 
love  me  not.  How  would  you  like  to  be  sent  after  me — in 
a  hamper?  Let  me  fetch  him.  Hark!  I  hear  him  squeal! 
Oh  ?    Max— Max ! 

Sir  H.  Hush!  for  Heaven's  sake.  They'll  imagine 
you're  calling-  the  Squire.  I  hear  footsteps ;  where  can  I 
retire?  (Goes  up,  right.) 

Enter  Meddle,  Spanker,  Dazzle,  and  Max,  left.     Lady 

Gay  screams. 

Med.  Spanker  versus  Courtly ! — I  subpcena  every  one  of 
you  as  witnesses  ! — I  have  'em  ready — here  they  are — shil- 
Hng  a-piece.  (Giving  them  round.) 

Lady  G.     Where  is  Sir  Harcourt? 

Med.  There ! — bear  witness  ! — call  on  the  vile  delinquent 
for  protection ! 

Span.     Oh!    his  protection! 

Lady  G.     What?   ha! 

Med.  I'll  swear  I  overheard  the  whole  elopement 
planned — before  any  jury! — where's  the  book? 

Span.     (To  Lady  Gay.)     Do  you  hear,  you  profligate? 

Lady  G.     Ha!   ha!   ha!   ha! 

Daz.     But  where  is  this  wretched  Lothario? 

Med.     Ay,  where  is  the  defendant? 

Span.     Where  lies  the  hoary  villain? 

Lady  G.     What  villain? 

Span.  That  will  not  serve  you ! — I'll  not  be  blinded  that 
way! 

Med.     We  won't  be  blinded  any  way ! 

Max.  I  must  seek  Sir  Harcourt,  and  demand  an  explan- 
ation !  Such  a  thing  never  occurred  in  Oak  Hall  before — 
it  must  be  cleared  up.  (Exit,  right.) 


72  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

]\Ied.  (Aside  to  Spanker.)  Now,  take  my  advice; 
remember  your  gender.    Mind  the  notes  I  have  given  you. 

Span.  (Left  center,  aside.)  All  right!  Here  they  are! 
Now,  madam,  I  have  procured  the  highest  legal  opinion 
on  this  point. 

Med.     (Left.)     Hear!    hear! 

Span.  And  the  question  resolves  itself  into  a — into — 
what's  this?  (Looks  at  notes.) 

Med.     a  nutshell ! 

Span.  Yes,  we  are  in  a  nutshell.  Will  you,  in  every 
respect,  subscribe  to  my  requests — desires — commands — 
(looks  at  notes) — orders — imperative — indicative — injunc- 
tive— or  otherwise? 

Lady  G.  (Aside.)  'Pon  my  life,  he's  actually  going  to 
assume  the  ribbons,  and  take  the  box-seat.  I  must  put  a 
stop  to  this.  I  will!  (To  Span.)  Mr.  Spanker,  I  have 
been  insulted  by  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly.  He  tried  to  elope 
with  me ;  I  place  myself  under  your  protection — challenge 
him ! 

Daz.     (Right.)     Oh!    I  smell  powder ! 

Lady  G.  I  know  it  will  all  end  in  smoke :  Sir  Harcourt 
would  rather  run  than  fight. 

Daz.  Command  my  services.  My  dear  madam,  can  I  be 
of  any  use? 

Span.  Oh !  a  challenge !  I  must  consult  my  legal 
adviser. 

Med.     No!    impossible!  (Crosses,  right  center.) 

Daz.  Pooh!  the  easiest  thing  in  life!  Leave  it  to  me. 
What  has  an  attorney  to  do  with  affairs  of  honor? — they 
are  out  of  his  element. 

Med.  Compromise  the  question  !  Pull  his  nose ! — we 
have  no  objection  to  that. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  73 

Daz.  (Turning  to  Lady  Gay.)  Well,  we  have  no 
objection  either — have  we? 

Lady  G.     No  ! — pull  his  nose,  that  will  be  something. 

Med.     And,  moreover,  it  is  not  exactly  actionable ! 

Daz.  Isn't  it ! — thank  you — I'll  note  down  that  piece  of 
information — it  may  be  useful. 

Med.      How!    cheated  out  of  my  legal  knowledge? 

(Crosses  to  Dazzle,  who  signifies  he  will  pull  his  nose; 
Meddle  hastily  gets  hack  to  left.) 

Lady  G.  (Crosses  to  left  center.)  Mr.  Spanker,  I  am 
determined! — I  insist  upon  a  challenge  being  sent  to  Sir 
Harcourt  Courtly! — and — mark  me — if  you  refuse  to  fight 
him,  I  will. 

Med.     Dont;    take  my  advice,  you'll  incapacit — 

Lady  G.  Look  you,  Mr.  Meddle,  unless  you  wish  me 
to  horsewhip  you,  hold  your  tongue. 

Med.  What  a  she-tiger — I  shall  retire  and  collect  my 
costs.  (Exit,  left.) 

Lady  G.  Mr.  Spanker,  oblige  me  by  writing  as  I 
dictate. 

Span.  Don't  go!  He's  gone — and  now  I  am  defence- 
less! Is  this  the  fate  of  husbands! — a  duel!  Is  this  the 
result  of  becoming  master  of  my  own  family? 

Lady  G.     Come,  Dolly ! 

Span.     I  won't  be  Dollied ! 

(Sits  left  center,  Dazzle  wheels  him  round  to  left  table, 
and  sits  on  the  arm  of  the  chair.) 

Lady  G.  "Sir,  the  situation  in  which  you  were  dis- 
covered with  my  wife,  admits  of  neither  explanation  nor 
apology." 

Span.  Oh,  yes !  but  it  does — I  don't  believe  you  really 
intended  to  run  quite  away. 


74  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Lady  G.  You  do  not;  but  I  know  better,  I  say  I  did, 
and  if  it  had  not  been  for  your  unfortunate  interruption, 
I  do  not  know  where  I  might  have  been  by  this  time. 
Go  on. 

Span.  "Nor  apology."  Fm  writing  my  own  death- 
warrant — committing  suicide  on  compulsion. 

Lady  G.     "The  bearer" — 

Span.     That  will  be  you. 

Daz.     I  am  the  bearer. 

Lady  G.  "Will  arrange  all  preliminary  matters,  for 
another  day  must  see  this  sacrilege  expiated  by  your 
life  or  that  of" — the  bearer? 

Daz.     No. 

Lady  G.  "Yours  very  sincerely  (looking  at  Dazzle)  — 
very  sincerely? — (Lady  Gay  a7id  Dazzle  repeat  "very 
sincerely,"   which  Spanker  repeats  in  astonishment.) 

Daz.     "Dolly  Spanker." 

Lady  G.     Dolly?    No!   No! 

Span.     Oh!     "Adolphus  Spanker." 

Lady  G.     Now,  Mr.  Dazzle. 

(Gives  the  letter  over  his  head.) 

Daz.  The  document  is  as  sacred  as  if  it  were  a  hundred 
pound  bill. 

Lady  G.     We  trust  to  your  discretion. 

Span.  His  discretion !  Oh,  put  your  head  in  a  tiger's 
mouth,  and  trust  to  his  discretion ! 

Daz.  (Sealing  letter,  etc.,  with  Spanker's  seal.)  My 
dear  Lady  Gay,  matters  of  this  kind  are  indigenous  to  my 
nature,  independently  of  their  pervading  fascination  to  all 
humanity ;  but  this  is  the  more  especially  delightful,  as  you 
may  perceive  I  shall  be  the  intimate  and  bosom  friend  of 
both  parties. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  75 

Lady  G.     Is  it  not  the  only  alternative  in  such  a  case  ? 

Daz.  It  is  a  beautiful  panacea  in  any,  in  every  case. 
(Going — returns.)  By  the  way  where  would  you  like  this 
party  of  pleasure  to  come  off?  Open  air  shooting  is  pleas- 
ant enough,  but  if  I  might  venture  to  advise,  we  could  order 
half-a-dozen  of  that  Madeira  and  a  box  of  cigars  into  the 
billiard  room,  so  make  a  night  of  it.  Take  up  the  irons 
every  now  and  then ;  string  for  first  shot,  and  blaze  away 
at  one  another  in  an  amicable  and  gentlemanlike  way ;  so 
conclude  the  matter  before  the  potency  of  the  liquor  could 
disturb  the  individuality  of  the  object,  or  the  smoke  of  the 
cigars  render  the  outline  dubious.  Does  such  an  arrange- 
ment concide  with  your  views? 

Lady  G.     Perfectly. 

Daz.     I  trust  shortly  to  be  the  harbinger  of  happy  tidings. 

(Exit,  left.) 

Span.  (Crosses.)  Lady  Gay  Spanker,  are  you  ambi- 
tious of  becoming  a  widow? 

Lady  G.  Why,  Dolly,  woman  is  at  her  best  but  weak, 
and  weeds  become  me. 

Span.  Female !  am  I  to  be  immolated  on  the  altar  of 
your  vanity  ? 

Lady  G.     If  you  become  pathetic,  I  shall  laugh. 

Span.  You  are  laughing!  Farewell — base,  heartless, 
unfeeling  woman.  (Exit,  left.) 

Lady  G.  Ha!  well,  so  I  am!  I  am  heartless,  for  he  is 
a  dear,  good  little  fellow,  and  I  ought  not  to  play  upon 
his  feelings;  but  'pon  my  life  he  sounds  so  well  up  at  con- 
cert pitch,  that  I  feel  disinclined  to  untune  him.  Poor  Doll, 
I  didn't  think  he  cared  so  much  about  me.  I  will  put  him 
out  of  pain. 

(Exit,  left.     Sir  Harcourt  comes  doivn  from  windozv.) 


76  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Sir  H.  I  have  been  a  fool !  a  dupe  to  my  own  vanity. 
I  shall  be  pointed  at  as  a  ridiculous  old  coxcomb — and  so 
I  am — and  has  the  world  been  ever  laughing  at  me  ?  Well, 
if  it  has  I  will  revert  the  joke;  they  may  say  I  am  an  old 
ass ;  but  I  will  prove  that  I  am  neither  too  old  to  repent 
my  folly,  nor  such  an  ass  as  to  flinch  from  confessing  it. 
A  blow  half  met  is  but  half  felt. 

Enter  Dazzle,  left. 

Daz.  Sir  Harcourt,  may  I  be  permitted  the  honor  of 
a  few  minutes'  conversation  with  you? 

Sir  H.     With  pleasure. 

Daz.     Have  the  kindness  to  throw  your  eye  over  that. 

{Gives  letter.) 

Sir  H.  (Reads.)  "Situation  —  my  wife  —  apology  — 
expiate — my  life."    Why,  this  is  intended  for  a  challenge. 

Daz.  Why,  indeed,  I  am  perfectly  aware  that  it  is  not 
quite  en  regie  in  the  couching,  for  with  that  I  had  nothing 
to  do ;  but  I  trust  that  the  irregularity  of  the  composition 
will  be  confounded  in  the  beauty  of  the  subject. 

Sir  H.     Mr.  Dazzle,  are  you  in  earnest? 

Daz.  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly,  upon  my  honor  I  am,  and  I 
hope  that  no  previous  engagement  will  interfere  with  an 
immediate  reply  in  propria  persona.  We  have  fixed  upon 
the  billiard  room  as  the  scene  of  action,  which  I  have  just 
seen  properly  illuminated  in  honor  of  the  occasion ;  and, 
by  the  bye,  if  your  implements  are  not  handy,  I  can  oblige 
you  with  a  pair  of  the  sweetest  things  you  ever  handled — 
hair-triggered — saw  grip ;  heir-looms  in  my  family.  I 
regard  them  almost  in  the  light  of  relations. 

Sir  H.  Sir,  I  shall  avail  myself  of  one  of  your  relatives. 
Sir,  I  am  happy  to  meet  Mr.  Spanker  at  any  time  or  place 
he  may  appoint. 


W.  C.   Bullitt.  Jk.,   1912, 
as  Lady  Gay  Spatiker. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  77 

Daz.  The  sooner  the  better,  sir.  Allow  me  to  offer  you 
my  arm.  I  see  you  understand  these  matters ; — my  friend 
Spanker  is  wofully  ignorant — miserably  uneducated. 

{Exeunt  left.) 

Reenter  Max  with  Grace,  right. 

Max.  (Left.)  Give  ye  joy,  girl,  give  ye  joy.  Sir 
Harcourt  Courtly  must  consent  to  waive  all  title  to  your 
hand  in  favor  of  his  son  Charles. 

Grace.  (Right.)  Oh,  indeed !  Is  that  the  pitch  of  your 
congratulation — hum !  the  exchange  of  an  old  fool  for  a 
young  one?  Pardon  me  if  I  am  not  able  to  distinguish  the 
advantage. 

Max.     Advantage ! 

Grace.  Moreover,  by  what  right  am  I  a  transferable 
cipher  in  the  family  of  Courtly?  So,  then,  my  fate  is 
reduced  to  this,  to  sacrifice  my  fortune,  or  unite  myself  with 
a  worm-eaten  edition  of  the  Classics. 

Max.  Why,  he  certainly  is  not  such  a  fellow  as  I  could 
have  chosen  for  my  little  Grace;  but  consider,  to  retain 
fifteen  thousand  a  year!  Now,  tell  me  honestly — but  why 
should  I  say  honestly  f  Speak,  girl,  would  you  rather  not 
have  the  lad? 

Grace.     Why  do  you  ask  me? 

Max.  Why  look  ye,  I'm  an  old  fellow ;  another  hunting 
season  or  two,  and  I  shall  be  in  at  my  own  death — I  can't 
leave  you  this  house  and  land,  because  they  are  entailed, 
nor  can  I  say  I  am  sorry  for  it,  for  it  is  a  good  law ;  but 
I  have  a  little  box  with  my  Grace's  name  upon  it,  where, 
since  your  father's  death  and  miserly  will,  I  have  yearly 
placed  a  certain  sum  to  be  yours,  should  you  refuse  to  fulfil 
the  conditions  prescribed. 
7 


78  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Grace.     My  own  dear  nncle ! 

(Clasping  him  round  the  neck.) 

Max.  Pooh!  pooh!  what's  to  do  now?  Why,  it  was 
only  a  trifle — why,  you  little  rogue,  what  are  you  crying 
about  ? 

Grace.     Nothing,  but — 

Max.  But  what?  Come,  out  with  it.  Will  you  have 
young  Courtly? 

Reenter  Lady  Gay,  left. 

Lady  G.     Oh !   Max,  Max  ! 

Max.     Why,  what's  amiss  with  you? 

Lady  G.     I'm  a  wicked  woman ! 

Max.     What  have  you  done  ? 

Lady  G.  Everything!  oh,  I  thought  Sir  Harcourt  was 
a  coward,  but  now  I  find  that  a  man  may  be  a  coxcomb 
without  being  a  poltroon.  Just  to  show  my  husband  how 
inconvenient  it  is  to  hold  the  ribbons  sometimes,  I  made 
him  send  a  challenge  to  the  old  fellow,  and  he,  to  my  sur- 
prise, accepted  it,  and  is  going  to  blow  my  Dolly's  brains 
out  in  the  billiard  room. 

Max.     The  devil! 

Lady  G.  Just  when  I  imagined  I  had  got  my  whip  hand 
of  him  again,  out  comes  my  linch-pin — and  over  I  go — oh  I 

Max.  I  will  soon  put  a  stop  to  that — a  duel  under  my 
roof !     Murder  in  Oak  Hall !     I'll  shoot  them  both  ! 

(Exit,  left.) 

Grace.     Are  you  really  in  earnest? 

Lady  G.  Do  you  think  it  looks  like  a  joke?  Oh!  Dolly, 
if  you  allow  yourself  to  be  shot,  I  will  never  forgive  you — 
never !    Ah,  he  is  a  great  fool,  Grace !   but  I  can't  tell  why, 


LONDON    ASSUIL\NCE.  79 

I  would  sooner  lose  my  bridle  hand  than  he  should  be  hurt 
on  my  account.  {Two  shots  are  fired  without,  left.) 

Enter  Sir  Harcourt,  left. 

Tell  me — tell  me — have  you  shot  him — is  he  dead — my  dear 
Sir  Harcourt  ?  You  horrid  old  brute — have  you  killed  him  ? 
•I  shall  never  forgive  myself.  {Exit,  left.) 

Grace.    {Right.)    Oh,  Sir  Harcourt,  what  has  happened? 

Sir  H.  {Left.)  Don't  be  alarmed,  I  beg — your  uncle 
interrupted  us — discharged  the  weapons — locked  the  chal- 
lenger up  in  the  billiard-room  to  cool  his  rage. 

Grace.     Thank  Heaven ! 

Sir  H.  Miss  Grace,  to  apologize  for  my  conduct  were 
useless,  still  reparation  is  in  my  power,  and  I  not  only  waive 
all  title,  right,  or  claim  to  your  person  or  your  fortune,  but 
freely  admit  your  power  to  bestow  them  on  a  more  worthy 
object. 

Grace.  This  generosity,  Sir  Harcourt,  is  most  unex- 
pected. 

Sir  H.     No,  not  generosity,  but  simply  justice,  justice! 

Grace.     May  I  still  beg  a  favor  ? 

Sir  H.     Claim  anything  that  is  mine  to  grant. 

Grace.  You  have  been  duped  by  Lady  Gay  Spanker,  I 
have  also  been  cheated  and  played  upon  by  her  and  Mr. 
Hamilton — may  I  beg  that  the  contract  between  us  may, 
to  all  appearance,  be  still  held  good  ? 

Sir  H.  Certainly,  although  I  confess  I  cannot  see  the 
point  of  your  purpose. 

Enter  Max,  with  Young  Courtly,  left. 

Max.     Now,  Grace,  I  have  brought  the  lad. 
Grace.     Thank  you,   uncle,  but  the   trouble   was   quite 
unnecessary — Sir  Harcourt  holds  to  his  original  contract. 

8 


So  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Max.     The  deuce  he  does! 

Grace.  And  I  am  willing — nay,  eager,  to  become  Lady 
Courtly. 

Young  C.     (Aside.)     The  deuce  you  are! 

Max.     But,  Sir  Harcourt — 

Sir  H.     One  word,  Max,  for  an  instant. 

(They  retire,  off  right.) 

Young  C.  (Aside.)  What  can  this  mean?  Can  it  be 
possible  that  I  have  been  mistaken — that  she  is  not  in  love 
with  Augustus  Hamilton? 

Grace.  (Aside.)  Now  we  shall  find  how  he  intends 
to  bend  the  haughty  Grace. 

Young  C.  Madam — Miss,  I  mean — are  you  really  in 
earnest — are  you  in  love  with  my  father? 

Grace.     No,  indeed  I  am  not. 

Young  C.     Are  you  in  love  with  any  one  else  ? 

Grace.     No,  or  I  should  not  marry  him. 

Young  C.  Then  you  actually  accept  him  as  your 
husband  ? 

Grace.     In  the  common  acceptation  of  the  word. 

Young  C.  Why  do  you  marry  him,  if  you  don't  care 
about  him? 

Gr.\ce.     To  save  my  fortune. 

Young  C.     Were  you  never  in  love  ? 

Grace.     Never ! 

Young  C.  (Aside.)  Oh!  what  an  ass  I've  been! 
(Aloud.)  I  heard  Lady  Gay  mention  something  about  a 
Mr.  Hamilton. 

Grace,  Ah,  yes,  a  person  who,  after  an  acquaintance- 
ship of  two  days,  had  the  assurance  to  make  love  to  me, 
and  I — 

Young  C.     Yes — you — well? 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  8 1 

Grace.     I  pretended  to  receive  his  attentions. 

Young  C.  (Aside.)  It  was  the  best  pretence  I  ever 
saw. 

Grace.  An  absurd,  vain,  conceited  coxcomb,  who 
appeared  to  imagine  that  I  was  so  struck  with  his  fulsome 
speech  that  he  could  turn  me  round  his  finger. 

Young  C.     (Aside.)     My  very  thoughts  ! 

Grace.     But  he  was  mistaken. 

Young  C.  Yet  you  seemed  rather  concerned  about  the 
news  of  his  accident. 

Grace.     His  accident?    No,  but — 

Young  C.     But  what? 

Grace.  (Aside.)  What  can  I  say?  (Aloud.)  Ah,  but 
my  maid  Pert's  brother  is  a  post-boy,  and  I  thought  he 
might  have  sustained  an  injury,  poor  boy. 

Young  C.  Madam,  if  the  retention  of  your  fortune  be 
the  plea  on  which  you  are  about  to  bestow  your  hand  on 
one  you  do  not  love,  and  whose  very  actions  speak  his 
carelessness  for  that  inestimable  jewel  he  is  incapable  of 
appreciating — know  that  I  am  devotedly,  madly  attached 
to  you. 

Grace.     You,  sir?    Impossible! 

Young  C.  Not  at  all — but  inevitable — I  have  been  so 
for  a  long  time. 

Grace.     Why,  you  never  saw  me  until  last  night. 

Young  C.  I  have  seen  you  in  imagination — you  are 
the  ideal  I  have  worshipped. 

Grace.  Since  you  press  me  into  a  confession — which 
nothing  but  this  could  bring  me  to  speak — know,  I  did  love 
poor  Augustus  Hamilton — 

Reenter  Max  and  Sir  Harcourt,  right. 
but  he — he  is — no — more !     Pray,  spare  me,  sir. 


82  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Young  C.  (Aside.)  She  loves  me!  And,  oh!  here's 
my  governor  again !  What  a  situation  I  am  in.  What  is 
to  be  done? 

Enter  Lady  Gay,  left. 

Lady  G.  Where  have  you  put  my  Dolly?  I  have  been 
racing  all  round  the  house — tell  me,  is  he  quite  dead  ? 

Max.     I'll  have  him  brought  in.  (Exit,  left.) 

Sir  H.  (Right.)  My  dear  madam,  you  must  perceive 
this  unfortunate  occurrence  was  no  fault  of  mine.  I  was 
compelled  to  act  as  I  have  done — I  was  willing  to  offer  any 
apology,  but  that  resource  was  excluded  as  unacceptable. 

Lady  G.  I  know — I  know — 'twas  I  made  him  write  that 
letter — there  was  no  apology  required — 'twas  I  that  appar- 
ently seduced  you  from  the  paths  of  propriety — 'twas  all  a 
joke,  and  here  is  the  end  of  it. 

Enter  Max,  Spanker  and  Dazzle,  left. 

Oh,  if  he  had  but  lived  to  say,    "I  forgive  you.  Gay!" 

Span.     So  I  do! 

Lady  G.     (Seeing  Spanker.)     Ah!    he  is  alive! 

Span.     Of  course  I  am  ! 

Lady  G.  Ha!  ha!  ha!  (Embraces  him.)  I  will  never 
hunt  again — unless  you  wish  it.     Sell  your  stable — 

Span.  No,  no, — do  what  you  like — say  what  you  like  for 
the  future !  I  find  the  head  of  the  family  has  less  ease  and 
more  responsibility  than  I,  as  a  member,  could  have  antici- 
pated.    I  abdicate ! 

(They  go  up,  his  arm  round  her  waist,  hers  on  his 
shoulder.) 

Enter  Cool,  left. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  83 

Sir  H.  Ah!  Cool,  here!  (Aside  to  Cool.)  You  may 
destroy  those  papers — I  have  altered  my  mind,  and  I  do  not 
intend  to  elope  at  present.    Where  are  they? 

Cool.  As  you  seemed  particular,  Sir  Harcourt,  I  sent 
them  off  by  the  mail  to  London. 

Sir  H.  Why,  then,  a  full  description  of  the  whole  affair 
will  be  published  to-morrow. 

Cool.     Most  irretrievably ! 

Sir  H.  You  must  post  to  town  immediately,  and  stop 
the  press. 

Cool.  Beg  pardon — but  they  would  see  me  hanged  first, 
Sir  Harcourt;  they  don't  frequently  meet  with  such  a 
profitable  lie. 

James.     (Without.)     No,  sir!   no,  sir! 

Enter  James,  left. 

James.  Sir,  there's  a  gentleman,  who  calls  himself  Mr. 
Solomon  Isaacs,  insists  upon  following  me  up.     (Exit,  left.) 

Enter  Mr.  Solomon  Isaacs,  left. 

Isaacs.  Mr.  Courtly,  you  will  excuse  my  performance 
of  a  most  disagreeable  duty  at  any  time,  but  more  especially 
in  such  a  manner.  I  must  beg  the  honor  of  your  company 
to  town. 

Sir  H.     What!    how!    what  for? 

Isaacs.     (Left  center.)     For  debt.   Sir  Harcourt. 

Sir  H.  (Center.)  Arrested?  impossible!  Here  must 
be  some  mistake, 

Isaacs.  Not  the  slightest,  sir.  Judgment  has  been  given 
in  five  cases,  for  the  last  three  months ;  but  Mr.  Courtly  is 
an  eel  rather  too  nimble  for  my  men.  We  have  been  on 
his  track,  and  traced  him  down  to  this  village,  with  Mr. 
Dazzle. 


84  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Daz.     (Right.)     Ah!    Isaacs!    how  are  you? 

Isaacs.     Thank  you,  sir.         (Speaks  to  Sir  Harcourt.) 

Max.     (Left.)     Do  you  know  him? 

Daz.  Oh,  intimately!  Distantly  related  to  his  family — 
same  arms  on  our  escutcheon — empty  purse  falling  thro'  a 
hole  in  a  pocket;  motto,  "Requiescat  in  pace" — which 
means,   "Let  virtue  be  its  own  reward." 

Sir  H.  (To  Isaacs.)  Oh,  I  thought  there  was  a  mis- 
take! Know  to  your  misfortune,  that  Mr.  Hamilton  was 
the  person  you  dogged  to  Oak  Hall,  between  whom  and  my 
son  a  most  remarkable  likeness  exists. 

Isaacs.  Ha!  ha!  Know,  to  your  misfortune,  Sir  Har- 
court, that  Mr.  Hamilton  and  Mr.  Courtly  are  one  and  the 
same  person ! 

Sir  H.     Charles! 

Young  C.  (Up  center.)  Concealment  is  in  vain — I  am 
Augustus  Hamilton. 

Sir  H.  Hang  me  if  I  didn't  think  it  all  along !  Oh  you 
infernal  cozening  dog!  (Crosses  to  him.) 

Isaacs.     Now,  then,  Mr.  Courtly — 

Grace.  (Center.)  Stay,  sir — Mr.  Charles  Courtly  is 
under  age — ask  his  father. 

Sir  H.  Ahem! — I  won't — I  won't  pay  a  shilling  of  the 
rascal's  debts — not  a  sixpence  ! 

Grace.     Then  I  will — you  may  retire. 

(Exit  Isaacs,  left.) 

Young  C.  I  can  now  perceive  the  generous  point  of 
your  conduct  towards  me;  and,  believe  me,  I  appreciate, 
and  will  endeavor  to  deserve  it. 

Max.  (Crosses.)  Ha!  ha!  Come,  Sir  Harcourt,  you 
have  been  fairly  beaten — you  must  forgive  him — say  you 
will. 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  85 

Sir  H.  So,  sir,  it  appears  you  have  been  leading,  cov- 
ertly, an  infernal  town  life? 

Young  C.     (Center.)     Yes,  please,  father. 

(Imitating  Master  Charles.) 

Sir  H.  None  of  your  humbug,  sir!  (Aside.)  He  is 
my  own  son — how  could  I  expect  him  to  keep  out  of  the 
fire?  (Aloud.)  And  you,  Mr.  Cool! — have  you  been 
deceiving  me? 

Cool.  (Right.)  Oh!  Sir  Harcourt,  if  your  perception 
was  played  upon,  how  could  /  be  expected  to  see? 

(Pause — he  'goes  up  and  off,  left.) 

Sir  H.  Well,  it  would  be  useless  to  withhold  my  hand. 
There,  boy !  (He  gives  his  hand  to  Young  Courtly,  left. 
Grace  comes  down  on  the  right  side  and  offers  her  hand; 
he  takes  it.)     What  is  all  this?    What  do  you  want? 

Young  C.     Your  blessing,  father. 

Grace.     If  you  please,  father. 

Sir  H.  Oho !  the  mystery  is  being  solved.  So,  so,  you 
young  scoundrel,  you  have  been  making  love — under  the 
rose. 

Lady  G.  (Left  center.)  He  learnt  that  from  you,  Sir 
Harcourt. 

Sir  H.  Ahem!  What  would  you  do  now,  if  I  were  to 
withhold  my  consent? 

Grace.     Do  without  it. 

Max.  The  will  says,  if  Grace  marries  any  one  but  you, 
her  property  reverts  to  your  heir-apparent — and  there  he 
stands. 

Lady  G.     Make  a  virtue  of  necessity. 

Span.  (Right.)  I  married  from  inclination,  and  see 
how  happy  I  am.    And  if  ever  I  have  a  son — 

Lady  G.     Hush  !   Dolly,  dear ! 


86  LONDON    ASSURANCE. 

Sir  H.  Well!  take  her,  boy!  Although  you  are  too 
young  to  marry.  {They  retire  with  Max.) 

Lady  G.     Am  I  forgiven,  Sir  Harcourt? 

Sir  H.  Ahem!  Why — a — {Aside.)  Have  you  really 
deceived  me? 

Lady  G.     Can  you  not  see  through  this? 

Sir  H.     And  you  still  love  me? 

Lady  G.     As  much  as  ever  I  did. 

Sir  H.  {Is  about  to  kiss  her  hand,  when  Spanker 
interposes  between  them.)     A  very  handsome  ring,  indeed. 

Span.     Very. 

{Puts  her  arm  in  his  and  they  go  up  to  Dazzle.) 

Sir  H.     Poor  little  Spanker! 

Max.  {Coming  down,  left,  aside  to  Sir  Harcourt.) 
One  point  I  wish  to  have  settled.    Who  is  Mr.  Dazzle? 

Sir  H.  {Center.)  A  relative  of  the  Spankers,  he  told 
me. 

Max.     Oh,  no,  a  near  connection  of  yours. 

Sir  H.  Never  saw  him  before  I  came  down  here,  in  all 
my  life.  {To  Young  Courtly.)  Charles,  who  is  Mr. 
Dazzle  ? 

Young  C.  Who?  I  don't  know.  Dazzle,  Dazzle 
(Dazzle  comes  right),  will  you  excuse  an  impertinent 
question  ? 

Daz.     {Right.)     Certainly. 

Young  C.     Who  the  deuce  are  you? 

Daz.     I  have  not  the  remotest  idea. 

All.     How,  sir? 

Daz.  Simple  question  as  you  may  think  it,  it  would 
puzzle  half  the  world  to  answer.  One  thing  I  can  vouch — 
Nature  made  me  a  gentleman — that  is,  I  live  on  the  best 


LONDON    ASSURANCE.  87 

that  can  be  procured  for  credit.     I  never  spend  my  own 
money  when  I  can  oblige  a  friend. 

Sir  H.  And  these  are  the  deeds  which  attest  your  title 
to  the  name  of  gentleman?  No,  sir!  The  title  of  gentle- 
man is  the  only  one  out  of  any  monarch's  gift,  yet  within 
the  reach  of  every  peasant.  It  should  be  engrossed  by 
Truth — stamped  with  Honor — sealed  with  Good-feeling — 
signed  Man — and  enrolled  in  every  true  young  heart. 

The  End. 


ADVERTISEMENTS 


ESTABLISHED    1818 


NSC'  '^  w 

*  BROADWAY  cor. TWENTY- SECOND  ST. 

NEW   YORK. 

In  addition  to  our  assortment  of  Imported  Suitings — 
the  most  extensive  of  its  kind  in  this  country — we  invite 
attention  to  our  very  complete  selection  of  Ready-Made 
Suits  and  Overcoats,  cut  on  distinctive  lines.  Our  stock 
also  affords  :  Suitable  Equipment  for  Motoring,  Riding, 
Driving,  Polo,  and  the  Hunt. 

All  requisites  for  the  Traveler,  including  Steamer  and 
Cabin  Trunks,  Bags  and  Rugs,  Special  Auto  Trunks, 
Dress  Suit  Cases,  Valises,  Portmanteaux  and  Fitted 
Cases — Light,  but  durable  and  handsome. 

Luncheon  and  Tea  Baskets. 

English  Hats,  with  many  novelties  in  negligee  shapes. 

Shoes  for  Street,  Dress  or  Sporting  Wear. 

All  details  of  Men's  Furnishing  Goods,  including 
many  imported  articles  not  to  be  found  elsewhere  in 
America. 

Distinctive  Livery  Appointments  for  Indoor  and 
Outdoor  Service. 

Illustrated  Catalogue  on  request. 


Telephone,  3044  Bryant 

The  Eaves'  Costume  Co. 

THEATRICAL  COSTUMERS 

Manufacturers  and  Dealers 

Costumes  to  Hire  for  Professionals  and  Amateurs 

226  WEST  41st  STREET 
One  block  West  of  Broadway  NEW  YORK 


JENKINS   &   THOMPSON 

INCORPORATED 

Remember* 

that  we  have  the  "men's  wear"  that  makes  a  sale  every  time. 
Remember 

that  qualit)' and  the   prices  will    "fit"   and  you'll   be  glad  you 
came  to  see  us  about  your  shirts,  underwear  and  gloves. 

Remember 

we  are  centrally  located.     Our  store  is  88o  Chapel  Street,  oppo- 
site the  Town  Pump. 

See  us  about:  your-  sillc  hat— '*  Knox  " 


HOTEL    BEI^MONT 

NEW  YORK 

BARBER    SHOP 

JOHN    WERSHING,   Proprietor 


AMERICA'S  FOREMOST  THEATRES  AND  HITS 

Under  direction  of  SAM  S.  and  LEE  SHUBERT,  Inc. 

HIPPODROME 

Direction  of  the  Messrs.  Sliubert.      6th  Ave.,  43d— 44th  Sts. 

MOST  COLOSSAL  CONCEPTION  OF  THE  CENTURY 

TWICE    DAILY 
Matinees  at  2.        Best  Seats  $1.00         Evenings  at  8,  25c.  to  $1.50 


A  TRIP  TO  JAPAN 

THE  ULTIMATE  ISLAND  OF  SPECTACULAR  ACHIEVEMENT 

Superb,  Stupendous  Scenic  Series,  Seventeen  Separate  Sumptuous  Sets 


COMPLETE   CIRCUS 

BALLET  OF  JEWELS 


New  York's  Notable  Novelty 

THE   FIGHTING  MAORIS 

Tribe  of  60  Savage  New  Zealand  Natives  in  Frenzied  Dancing  Feats 

INSIDE  THE  EARTH 


FRANCIS    R.    COOLEY 
BANKER 

49    PEARL  STREET,    HARTFORD,   CONN. 

HIGH  GRADE   BONDS  AND  STOCKS 
LOCAL  SECURITIES 

Randall   Studio 

1064   Chapel   Street 

J.   p.   ANDERSON,   Proprietor 

PHOXOGRAPHY    AND    ARX    GOODS 

We  Make  and  Deliver  Frames  on  Short  Notice 

WILSON'S  PHARMACY,  Inc. 

COR.  YORK  AND  ELM  STS. 
ALL  A  YALE  MAN  NEEDS  IN  OUR  LINE 

GET   IT   AT  WILSON'S 

Agents  for  Allegretti's,  Menier  and  Belle  Mead  Chocolates 

GOLDBAUM  &  RAPOPORT 

University  Tailors 

1073  CHAPEL  STREET,  NEW  HAVEN,  CONN. 

ASTOR   HOUSE,   N.   Y.,   WEDNESDAYS 


China  and  Japan  Trading  Company 

UIMITED 

INos.  3:2  to  38  Burling  Slip 

INEW  YORK: 


Nos.  4  and  5  East  India  Ave. 

Leadenhall  St.,  London,  E.  C. 

No.  3  Lloyds  House,  Albert  Square,  Manchester 

No.  2  Sungkiang  Road,  Shanghai,  China 

No.  89  Yamashita  Cho,  Yokohama 

No.  88  Naka  Machi,  Kobe 

No.  20  Nakanoshima  7  Chome,  Osaka 

No.    4  Oura,  Nagasaki 


JAPAN 


EXPORTERS  AND  IMPORTERS 


A  SPORTING 

PROPOSITION 


If  a  Yale  man  buys  a  Wisconsin  Corliss  Engine  within  a  year 
from  date,  the  Wisconsin  Engine  Co.  pays  the  Yale  Dramatic  Asso- 
ciation three  times  the  cost  of  this  full  page — if  no  Engine  is  sold 
we  pay  them  nothing. 

Now  honestly,  we  could  not  let  this  proposition  pass  us.  So 
Yale  Men — Get  in  the  Game.  When  you  need  a  Corliss  Engine,  let 
the  Wisconsin  Engine  Co.  show  you  that  their  Engines  are  the  best, 
and  then  buy  one.  Their  address  is  given  below,  and  they  will  gladly 
furnish  any  engineering  information  relative  to  the  generation  of 
power. 


liMSM  1 


ENGINEERS   AND   BUILDERS 
CORLISS,    WISCOINSirV 


DO  YOU  USE  PRESS  CLIPPINGS? 

fl  It  will  more  than  pay  you  to  secure  our  extensive  service  covering  all 
subjects,  trade  and  personal,  and  get  the  benefit  of  the  best  and  most 
systematic  reading  of  all  papers  and  periodicals,  here  and  abroad,  at 
minimum  cost.  Why  miss  taking  advantage  for  obtaining  the  best  pos- 
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^  Our  service  is  taken  by  all  progressive  people,  business  men,  publish- 
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need,  as  every  article  of  interest  is  at  your  daily  command. 
^  Write  for  terms,  or  send  your  order  for   100  clippings  at  $5.00  or 
1,000  clippings  at  $35.00. 

SPECIAL  RATES  QUOTED  FOR  LARGE  ORDERS 

THE  MANHATTAN  PRESS  CLIPPING  BUREAU 

ARTHUR  CASSOT.  Proprietor 

334  FIFTH  AVE.,  Corner  33d  Street  (Cambridge  Building),  NEW  YORK 

ESTABLISHED  IN  1888 


1014  Chapel  St.* 

New  Haven, Conn. 


H  Shop  Devoted  to  exclusive  Style^  and 
to  the  RequircTncnts  of  Careful  Drcasera 


RICHES  TAKE  WINGS 

A  Chicago  Four  Millionaire's  estate  shows  $50.95  in  cash  after 
claims,  debts  and  fees  are  paid. 

A  small  portion  of  the  amount  paid  for  fees  alone  would  have 
secured  a  large  income  through  life  for  the  beneficiaries — and  no  fees, 
taxes  or  cost  of  administration — through  a  policy  in  the 

Phoenix  Mutual  Life,    ^"fast''    Hartford,  Conn. 

John  M.   Holcombe,   President  William  A.  Moore,  ist  V.  P. 

A.  A.  Welch,  2d  V.  P.  and  Actuary     S.   H.   Cornwell,   Secretary 

DIRECTORS 

Jonathan  B.  Bunce,  John  M.  Holcombe,  Isaac  W.  Brooks,     John  D.  Browne, 
Louis  R.  Cheney,        John  P.  Elton,  Charles  E.  Gross,  Charles  M.  Jarvls, 

Lee  McClung,  William  A.  Moore,  James  Nichols,  Silas  W.  Robbins, 

Edward  D.  Robbins,  Archibald  A.   Welch,  F.  L.  Wilcox. 

Course  of  Instruction  and  Many  Aids  for  Young  Men  Entering  the  Business. 

Che  6ardc 

Hsylum  and  Righ  Stmts       fS>>vf fnrri     PrtMfl 

(One  Block  from  Union  Station)  *  /<»  ■    i  I  V I  V*,     V>V^IIII« 

Beautifully    Located 
Facing  Bushnell  Park  and  State  Capitol 

Connecticut's  Largest  and  Most  Modern  Hotel 

Buropcan  and  Hmerican  plans 

On  direct  Motor  Route,  New  York  to  Boston  GARAGE 

WALTER  S.  GARDE 


Headqaarters  of  Yale  University  Crew  and  Base  Ball  Team  "  1909 

Fireproof.    European  Plaa.    Cafe.    Banquet  Hall 

Single  Rooms  and  Suites  Transient  and  Permanent 

ARTHUR  F.  HEEB.  Manager 


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BROAD  AND  SPRUCE  STREETS 
PHILADELPHIA 


GOLDBATJM   &   CO. 

Importing  Cailors 

1106  CHAPEL  ST.,  Near  York 

NETV   HAVEN,  CONN. 


Hotel  Cumberland 

NEW  YORK 
S.  W.  Corner  Broadway  at  54th  St. 

Near  50th  St.  Subway  Station  and  53d  St. 
Elevated.  Broadway  cars  from  Grand 
Central  Depot  pass  the  door. 

Kept  by  a  College  Man 

Headquarters  for  College  lien 
Special  Rates  for  College  Teams 

NEW  AND  FIREPROOF 

Most  attractive  hotel  in  New  York.  Rates 
Reasonable,  82.50  with  bath  and  up.  All  out- 
side rooms.    Send  for  booklet. 

HARRY  P.  STIMSON, 

formerly  with  Hotel  Imperial 

10  MINUTES'  WALK   TO   20  THEATRES 
Headquarters  for  Yale  Men 


ki^;^'' 


Kligerman 
Wood  and  Storage  Co. 

16  Orchard  Street 


Telephone  1 783 


Thomas  A.  Biddle  &  Co. 


Stock  Brokers 

Members 
Philadelphia  and  New  York  Stock  Exchanges 


Investment  Securities 

COMMISSION  ORDERS 
TRANSACTED  IN  ALL  MARKETS 


326  Walnut  Street 
2 1  0  Real  Estate  Trust  Building 

PHILADELPHIA 


McMillan  bros. 

TTailors  and  Importers 

101    Tremont  Street,  Boston 

Mr.  A.  McMillan  will  be  at  the  New  Haven  House  every  other  week. 

CLOTHES  DON'T  MAKE  THE  MAN 

Bui  they  do  display  him  to  the  best  ad-vantage 

OUR    PROFESSION    IS    CLOTHES 

RICHMOND  &  WEINSTEIN 

1134   CHAPEL  STREET 
FRANK  COLLINS 

Bicycles   and   Phonographs 

Repairing  a  Specialty 
11  Broadway,  New  Haven,  Conn. 

Telephone  4408 

ORENSTEIN  CS,  ALEXANDER 

Cailors  and  Tmporters 

1104  Chapel  Street,       New  Haven,  Conn. 


NEW  YORK 
Astor  House,    Corner    Broadway  and    Vesey  Street,    every  Thursday 


THE  UNION  CENTRAL  LIFE  INSURANCE  CO. 

OP  ciiNCirNrvAXi,  ohio 

The  best  company  for  the  policy-holder,  because  its  management  is 
most  economical,  its  mortality  is  the  lowest,  and  it  earns  the  highest 
rate  of  interest  on  its  investments  of  all  American  companies. 

Its  dividends  to  policy-holders  are  much  larger  than  those  paid  by 
any  other  company. 

JOHN  B.  DUNN,  Manager  for  Connecticut 
840  CHAPEL  STREET 


NV.    JACOBS 

tailor  for  men 

CHAPEL  STREET  AT  THE  CORNER  OF  HIGH 
Just  under  the  Roxbury 

Nobby  Suitings 

for  Spring  NEW  HAVEN,  CONN. 


THE  hermittage: 

A  CLUB  HOTEL  FOR  MEN 

The  name  tells  the  story 

Seventh  Avenue  and  Forty-second  Street 

JUNCTION  OF  BROADWAY 

Restaurant   on    the   street   floor,    a    reS" 

taurant  >Arlnere  ladies  are  Avelcome 

Every  other  part  of  the  house 

exclusively  for  men 

Telephones  in  every  room  Send  for  booklet 


The 
Mercantile  National  Bank 

of  the  City  of  New  York 


Capital,    $3,000,000 
Surplus,  $2,000,000 


OFFICERS 
WILLIS  G.   NASH,   President 
MILES  M.  O'BRIEN,  Vice  President 
V/ILLIAM    SKINNER,  Vice  President 
\VILLIAM   H.  TAYLOR,  Vice  President 
EMIL  KLEIN,  Cashier 


BYRON 

THE  NEW  YORK 

PHOTOGRAPHER 


Sends  men  anywhere  to  make  Flashlight  Pictures  of  the 

highest  class,  Private  Interiors,    Banquets,    Family 

Reunions,  Weddings,  Dances,  Theatricals, 

Business  Offices  and  every  kind  of 

Interior  Work,  at 

New  York  City  prices  plus  traveling  expenses 


Satisfaction  is  absolutely  guaranteed 


ADDRESS : 

BYRON  COMPANY 

1 1 59  Marbridge  Building  NEW  YORK 


HALUS  STUDIO 

1456  BROADWAY 
NEW  YORK  CITY 


Hotel  Iroquois 

Buffalo,  New  York 

Hotel  Marie  Antoinette 

Broadway  and  66th-67th  Street 
New  York  City 

Grand  Union  Hotel 

Saratoga  Springs,  New  York 

Under  the  Management 

of 

WOOLLEY   &    GERRANS 


PIANOS  ^^  MUSIC 

Loomis'  Temple  of  Music 

837  Chapel  Street  New  Haven,  Conn. 


IMPORTING  TAILOR 

lOOO  CHAPEL  ST.,    NEW  HAVEN 
313  BROADWAY,         NEW  YORK 

A.    K.    ROSKNBBRQ 
Tailor  and  Suit  Presser 

Contract  work  by  month,  term  or  year  REPAIRING,  ALTERING  and  DYEING 

COMMUTATION  TICKET  DRY  CLEANING  A  SPECIALTY 

Work  called  for  and  delivered  to  any  part  of  the  city 
1 125  Chapel,  corner  York  Street  Telephone  30i3 

OPEN  DAY  AND  NIGHT  Telephone  820 

KIRK   &   CO.,  Inc. 

HACKS,  COUPES,   BUSSES  AND   LIVERY 

OF  EVERY  DESCRIPTION 

Office  and  Stables :  170  Temple  Street 


1848 


1910 


Skinner's  Satin 

(27  and  36  inches  wide) 

ALWAYS    HAS    THE    NAME    WOVEN    IN    THE 

SELVAGE  AND  IS  GUARANTEED  TO 

WEAR  TWO   SEASONS 

William  Skinner  Manufacturing  Co* 

Dept.  L,  107-109  Bleecker  St.,  New  York  City 
Mills,  Holyoke,  Mass. 


NEW  YORK 


CHICAGO 


PHILADELPHIA 


BOSTON 


MODERN  FILING   CABINETS 

AND 

METHODS  ACCESSORIES 

LrARQESX    VARIETY    SHO>VIN    IIV    COlNrSECTICUT 

FILING  SYSTEMS  STORE 
The  Tattle,  Morehouse  &  Taylor  Company 

179  CROWN  STREET  New  Haven,  Conn. 


THE  STRATFIELD 

BRIDGEPORT,  COIVIN. 
PIREPROOP 

Main,  Oolden  Hill  and  Chapel  Streets.      (Two  Blocks  from  Railway  Station) 

The  Largest  and  Best  Equipped  Hotel  between  New  York  and  Boston 
Unexcelled  Accommodations  for  Automobile  Parties 

275  ROOMS  H.  C.  GRISWOLD,  Mana§:er    250  Rooms  with  Bath 


J.  HYSLER 

Barber  Shop 

IVtKN'S    FURNISHINO   GOODS 

Hotel  Manhattan,  New  York 
Forty -second  Street  and  Madison  Avenue 


PACH   BROTHERS 

College  Photographers 

Branch  of  1024  Chapel  Street 

935  Broadway,  New  York  New   Haven,  Conn. 


DeLancey  School 

1420  PINE  STREET 
PHILADELPHIA 

Largest  and  best  equipped  College  Preparatory  School  in 
any  city  in   the  United   States 

UPPER  SCHOOL         LOWER  SCHOOL         PRIMARY 


Catalogue  on  application 


COLEMAN  P.  BROWN,  Head  Master      . 
A.  B.  BABBITT,  Associate  Head  Master 

HYPERION  THEATRE 

New  Haven's  Leading  Play  House 
SAM.  S.  and  LEE  SHUBERT  Inc.,  Mgrs.  E.  D.  ELDRIDGE,  Res.  Mgr. 

Playing  only  Standard  Attractions 

BOOTH,  GARRETT  &  BLAIR 

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The  Machine  You  Will  Eventually  Buy  " 

THE  UNDERWOOD  TYPEWRITER  CO.,  Inc. 
18  CENTER  STREET,  NEW  HAVEN 


Grady  Furniture  Co. 

1012  Chapel  Street,  opp.  Osborn  Hall 
Are  showing  a  full  line  of 

L.   &    Js    Gs    Stickley    Co/s 
Handcraft    Furniture 

Exclusive  Selling  Agents 
for  this  well  known  line 

Specialists  in  Furnishings  for 
Student  Apartments 


"TAYLOR"    ON    IT 

means  it's  the  best  athletic  article  you  can  buy.    SV/EATERS, 
SNEAKERS,    FLAPPERS,    JERSEYS,    ETC. 
minus    trademark    trimmings- you    know    what 
that  means. 

ALEX.   TAYLOR  &  CO. 

ATHLETIC    OUTFITTERS 
16   E.  42d  ST.,    N.  Y.     opp.  ho.  Manhattan 

Boys,  when  in  New  York  use  us  for  headquarters. 
I.eave  your  grips  here  and  say  hello.     Don't  forget. 


Fresh  picked  Violets  and  Carnations 
by  mail  a  specialty 

JOSEPH    C.   HA  WORTH,   Farmington,  Conn. 


MILLKR 

Ttieatrical  Costtimer 

186  N.  7th  Street 
F»HIIvADKIvF»HIA 

Costumes   made  to   order  or  on  hire  for 

Theatrical — Bal  Masque   or 

Amateur  Production 


Special   Prices   to   Yale   Students 


UDIO 


1546   Broadxvay 


10 


THE-  rORD  COHPMf 

rOUNDE-D    1831 

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MAINTAINED  THE"  HIGHE-ST  STANDARD 
or  QUALITY  IN  GOLD  AND  61LYE:R 

A 6  IMPORTE-RS  OE-GE-MS  PRE:CI0U6 
6TONE:S  WATCHE:S  CHINA  GLASS 
POTTERY  AND  ART  PRODUCTIONS  PROM 
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ACQUIRED  AN  UNRIYALLPD  REPUTATION 

A  COMPARISON  OP  PRICErS  QUALITY 
CONSIDPRED  IS  ALWAYS  WPLCOMED 
VISITORS  AREr  CORDIALLY  INVITED 
TO  VISIT  THErlR  SHOW  ROOMS  AS 
PURCHASPRS  OR  ADMIRPRS 


HAPEL  STREPT  BETWEEN  COLLEGP  AND 
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